# chapters

path: 112211111112122221221121112222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Mystery of the Durras Brothers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Oh hey, what's this?" You tug on the mask; and instead of stopping you Frank actually pulls it from the bag and hands it to you. <br/>
<br/>
"You like it?" he asks, sounding pleased. "It's something my mom made in an arts and crafts class." <br/>
<br/>
<i>Bullshit.</i> Your blood chills as you finger it, but you feign nonchalance. "Who do I look like," you joke, holding it up to your face.<br/>
<br/>
Now Frank intercepts you, blocking your wrist before it can touch your face and gently prying it from your grasp. "Sorry," he smiles. "It's kind of fragile."<br/>
<br/>
But he lets it go around the table, and Geoff and Alyssa say politely complimentary things about its craftsmanship.  It's left to Joe Durras, Frank's brother, to retrieve it from the company. "Hokey smokes, Frank," he exclaims as soon as he's through the bakery door. "Dad'll kill us if we break that thing! That's the post office's job!"<br/>
<br/>
"We're mailing it to our Aunt Gertrude," Frank explains as Joe takes the mask from Geoff. The latter cocks an eyebrow at him and says nothing, but shoots a glance in your direction. He seems privately amused about something.<br/>
<br/>
Conversation shifts in other directions after Joe has put the unpolished mask in a sack with a box, packing peanuts, and assorted mailing supplies. This gives you time to thoughtfully study the Durras brothers. Frank, as noted, is dark and serious, with a strong nose and cheekbones, and even when smiling there is a watchfulness in his eyes. Joe is blonde, with wiry hair that starts to curl as it falls to the top of his ears and base of his neck, and his eyes seem set in a perpetual laugh. Both brothers give the impression of being very strong and athletic, though Joe—perhaps because he is dressed out in a basketball uniform and walks with a quick, rolling motion—seems the more physical of the two. They share nothing of a family resemblance.<br/>
<br/>
You are soon restless and wanting to quit the company, but talk returns to your romantic predicament before you leave. Frank and Joe make sympathetic noises at the précis Alyssa gives them of your problem. Geoff twists it in an unexpected direction, though, when he turns to Joe: "Did you leave a girlfriend back in ... Where did you move here from? Bayport?"<br/>
<br/>
"Innsmouth," Joe replies. "I left lots of girlfriends back there," he adds with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"He left one, and she was glad to see him off," Frank says.<br/>
<br/>
"Only one you knew of," Joe retorts. <br/>
<br/>
"No, I still hear you talk about them in your sleep," Frank says. "And they all have disgusting, porn star names."<br/>
<br/>
"Why did I guess you guys share a bunk bed," Geoff casually observes.<br/>
<br/>
"We don't," says Frank. "Not even a bedroom. Joe's just very, very loud when in the throws of nocturnal excitement."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That night, at home, after the usual evening fight between Whitney and her parents about her schoolwork, you call up Caleb and Keith. The latter, you find, has already told Caleb whose persona you are inhabiting, so that's one potential misunderstanding averted. You, without talking about the mask, casually mention running into the Durras brothers after school. You're hoping that might jog one of them into confessing to light espionage, but neither rises to the bait; neither, in fact, seems to recognize your allusion to the brothers. You tentatively decide that that puts them both in the clear.<br/>
<br/>
But it also deepens the mystery about them and the fact that they possess a <i>Libra</i> mask. You, of course, know nothing about them, and Whitney knows nothing except that they started going to Eastman at the beginning of the semester. You do a little Googling but can find nothing about them—not even a Facebook page—except for a mention of their names in connection with the Eastman basketball team. You wind up calling Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not going to talk to either Cooper or to Dennis," he says firmly right after saying hello. <br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I wanted to ask you what the deal is with Frank and Joe Durras," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"The Hardy boys?" he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?'<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know. Frank. Joe. Aunt Gertrude."<br/>
<br/>
"Is she connected with the Hardy boys?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's their aunt in the books."<br/>
<br/>
"That's kind of weird," you say cautiously.<br/>
<br/>
"That's why I asked if they were from Bayport. That's where the Hardy boys live."<br/>
<br/>
"But they're not. Joe said they're from—"<br/>
<br/>
"From Innsmouth. That's another joke. No such town. That's from Lovecraft." He laughs again. "They're totally unbelievable."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean they're liars?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm sure it's just a private joke on their part. You know Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I don't," you admit. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's a total prankster. I don't hang out much with him, but I know Frank from the debate team. He's smart. I mean, like, <i>scary</i> smart. Joe's no dummy either, from what I can tell. But he's more of a jock. He can move a ball up and down the court like no one's business." You mull this, and Geoff makes an inference. "Are you, like, getting a crush on one of them?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say hotly. "I was just, you know, picking up this weird vibe from the conversation."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, I won't tease you. Sounds like you've got trouble enough in paradise, from what you told Alyssa, without looking for more. I'd steer clear of Frank and Joe, if I were you. Like I said, there's something unreal about them. They'd drive you crazy and then set you fire."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Meh. I'm just babbling. I mean, keep your eyes open and your wits about you when you're with them, or you'll get taken for a ride."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Dunholm is a solid, dependable sort, and smart. The people who know him—like Whitney—tend to trust his intuitions. His talk leaves you feeling even more cautious about dealing with the Durrases. There is something "fictional" about them, Geoff has intimated, and as you drum your fingers on the <i>Libra</i> you reflect that masks can be used to create "fictional" people as well as copy real ones.<br/>
<br/>
Confronting them directly—by using mind strips or anima strips on them—carries terrible risks, as you've no evidence that they are aware of your presence in Eastman. Surrounding and probing them by (perhaps) enslaving or replacing teammates or classmates that are close to them, also carries the risk of hitting a hidden confederate or puppet master. But you feel the need to do something, even if it is just seek out more information, or even just gossip, about them.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112
author_id: seuzz
title: Keith's Double Jump
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The girl looks uncertainly into your office. "Miss Vredenburg?" you ask. She nods, and you beam in  a fatherly way. "Do come in."<br/>
<br/>
Cindy does a double-take when she sees Keith standing in the corner. "Oh, hey Cindy," he says. He's got his back to her; ostensibly he's studying the books on Blackwell's shelf, but he's really hiding his boner.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know each other?" you ask. "We go to school together," Cindy says.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah. Yes, Mr. Tilley, came here this afternoon to discuss our program. As for you— Well, first, let me tell you how sorry I am for your loss." She nods. "This must be painful, but I don't feel right keeping your sister's unreturned coursework. I appreciate your coming by to pick it up." <br/>
<br/>
You rummage through a folder on your desk; Keith takes that as the signal, and abruptly reaches around to press the blank mask to Cindy's face. He catches her as she falls backward, and with this foot kicks the office door closed. You hurry around the desk. "I'll start getting her clothes off. You get undressed and hand me your mask."<br/>
<br/>
Quickly you pull her shoes and stockings and skirt and the rest off. From behind you comes the sound of more clothes hitting the floor, and when you get her bra off you turn to find— "Oh Jesus, Keith, get that thing out of my face."<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry," he sniggers, and steps back.<br/>
<br/>
The mask reappears and you trade the new mask of Cindy for the mask of Keith and drop it onto her. Her body shifts and changes, growing longer and lankier and bonier. The new Keith sits up on his elbows and blinks his eyes open. "Huh," he sighs. "So I guess the trade went off okay."<br/>
<br/>
You turn around. A soft light cocoons the other figure on the floor, and then fades out to reveal the naked Cindy Vredenburg. She breathes softly and smiles in her daze. Her skin all over is smooth and unblemished, with restful curves and shallows at her hips and stomach and bosom. You shift to shut out the sight of Keith's elevating cock, but your own is stirring too. "Come on, sleeping beauty," you say roughly, and prod Cindy awake. <br/>
<br/>
She sits up with a start and stares at you. She gasps and covers her breasts with an arm and her pussy with a hand. You and she stare at each other hard for a moment. And then she grins. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," she says, and cups and peers down at her breasts. "Oh, wow."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got lots of time to do that later. Get dressed."<br/>
<br/>
She sucks down deep breaths. "I think I'm going to hyperventilate."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, just give me a moment. She takes several more deep breaths, and twists her hips. "Mmmm, yeah. Okay, quick where are my panties?"<br/>
<br/>
With a grimace you hand them over to her, and she slowly pulls them on. "Bra?" She puts it on back to front and twists it around to tuck her breasts into the cups. "Sweet. Stockings?"<br/>
<br/>
"You can get the rest yourself." You turn to the Keith golem, who is staring at her with a look of rapt obsession. "And you can start getting dressed too." He jumps guiltily, and blushes.<br/>
<br/>
"Think you can get to Javits?" you ask Cindy as she finishes buttoning her blouse. "The break up with him was kind of a disaster."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but it wasn't his idea." She pulls her hair free and pulls it straight. "I've— I mean Cindy—"<br/>
<br/>
"You're Cindy now, for a little while, so just talk like you're her."<br/>
<br/>
She giggles. "Okay. I've been trying to be nice to him. We've been talking on the phone at night."<br/>
<br/>
"Try to set up some kind of meeting with him tonight. Don't waste time. Me and Caleb are waiting on you."<br/>
<br/>
She sighs as she puts her hair band on. "It sucks that my social life is such a mess. This feels real good." She runs her hands over her breasts and down her front and sides to rest on her hips.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, the two of you can beat it." <br/>
<br/>
Keith follows her closely as she opens the door, until she turns on him with snarl. "Back off, creep." She prances out; he looks back at you and makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Is that them?" Caleb asks. <br/>
<br/>
You shift to peer over his shoulder. "It looks like Javits' car."<br/>
<br/>
"Quiet," Keith says. "They're getting out."<br/>
<br/>
"Would you get off my hand?" It's the golem wearing your face who says that. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb looks between you and your twin. "Which one of you is the real Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me," you and the golem say in unison. You suppress the urge to punch it.<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't matter," Keith hisses. "Just shut up."<br/>
<br/>
In the dark you can make out two figures getting out of the car. Their voices float in the night air: Cindy and Javits. They don't touch or hold hands, but they walk close beside each other. You can't make out anything they say until they are quite close to your hiding place beside the playground equipment.<br/>
<br/>
"—but she's turning all the other against me. She's, like, so vengeful."<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea's not telling them anything," Javits grunts. "They're just scared of her."<br/>
<br/>
"So she doesn't have to tell them. It's still the same thing."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you need them as friends for," he asks, "if they're going to be bitches about it all."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what do you need your friends for?" she retorts. "I'm sorry," she adds with a sigh when he doesn't answer. "It's just, like, it's our senior year. Am I supposed to go out and get new friends now?"<br/>
<br/>
You're kind of curious to hear how this conversation plays out, but the others aren't similarly patient. So when Javits says "You think getting back together with me will get you your friends back?" and turns toward Cindy, Caleb hisses "Now!" and springs out. The four of you follow, and your victim has no time to react before four guys much smaller than him tackle and force him to the ground. You sit on one of his shoulders while Caleb takes another; the other two sit on his legs. "The fuck?!" Javits exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
Cindy sits on his stomach and drops her purse on his chest. "No, Seth," she smirks. "But when I <i>am</i> you I'll have <i>your</i> friends." She pulls a mask from her purse and claps it to his face.<br/>
<br/>
"With a dry, vinegary wit like that you could be a really lame action hero," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Bite me," she scoffs back. "No, wait until I'm inside him and then you can bite me." She starts unbuttoning Javits' shirt, and the four of you soon have him naked on the grass. Keith, at a signal from Cindy lays down on the grass beside him, and she, after stripping, lays down too. Caleb tweaks the masks off them, and you blow some of Blackwell's patented knockout powder into the face of the real Cindy; that should keep her out until everything else has been handled. Keith takes Javits' mask after it reappears, and your own twin puts the mask of Keith onto the dazed Javits. A few moments later, a naked Keith slave is helping a naked Seth Javits to his feet. "Whoa," he says, slapping his chest. "And to think I've got you homos to thank for this."<br/>
<br/>
"Just get dressed," Caleb says. "I didn't realize all this swapping around would give me such an eyeful of naked assholes."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to tell her when she comes to?" you ask Javits, pointing at Cindy. "The last thing she's going to remember is being in Blackwell's office."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't going to tell her anything," he says, squatting beside her. "I was just going to lay down next to her and have a little fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be sick. She's been through a lot." <br/>
<br/>
"Alright," he says grudging, and picks up his underwear. "But you guys better get out of here before she comes to."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what <i>did</i> you tell her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really your business, is it?" Javits says. You can hear the leer in his voice, even through the cell phone. "Didn't turn out real cool, though. I think we're done for good now. She thinks I'm a creep."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do to her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," he says defensively. "She was naked and I couldn't get her dressed again, so I just laid down next to her and started kissing her all over. Mmmm. Yeah, that was nice, until she woke up. I tried to pretend like it was all cool between us, but she started shrieking and hitting me. I tried being nice, being all hurt and shit, like I was confused, but she wouldn't talk."<br/>
<br/>
"Great. She'll be talking about how you tried to 'date rape' her."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that'll be a good cover for her amnesia, don't you think?" he says cheerfully. "And it'll get me in good with Black and them. Oh yeah, that's why I called."<br/>
<br/>
"You found a way to get to Black?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet, but I've got some juicy news for you. You can use it to get into Eastman, too."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson is transferring out there."<br/>
<br/>
"You're shitting me! What the fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Technically, it's because his folks are moving to a new house that'll be in Eastman's district. It was all set for him to keep going to Westside, but he changed his mind. Black is <i>pissed pissed pissed,</i> calling him a pussy and shit. It's because that hex you put on 'em has Patterson totally freaked out. He can't handle being in the same school with you any more."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God. To think I bullied <i>Patterson</i> into changing schools!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. So if you want I can set it up for you take him. Or you can wait until I've got Gordon, and then I can set you up with guys who are already at Eastman."</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Making Putty of Patterson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Patterson it is," you say. "I'll kick your ass when I'm over at Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
"Not fucking likely," Keith retorts. "When you've got him you can help me take Gordon, right? You'll have to make nice with him. He and Gordon are on the outs since Patterson said he was moving."<br/>
<br/>
"One way or another you'll get him," you assure him. "How will we do this?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll set up a play date with him. Over at the clubhouse? There's some hoops and a blacktop."<br/>
<br/>
"And where will I be?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a moron. You'll be in the clubhouse. I'll get him in there. Just have the mask ready."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There's some excitement at school the next day, which is a Thursday. You're at your locker, doing your best to ignore the Keith- and Caleb-golems, who are talking goofily behind your back as you change out your books after second period. It's rather creepy hanging out with them, for although their behavior is indistinguishable from the real articles, you know that they are fakes, and are trying to have as little to do with them as possible. Keith is complaining about his math homework when Seth Javits materializes behind him. "Haven't seen you in a while, Tilley," he smirks, and grabs the hapless golem around the neck. "Be my friend?" He drags the hapless Keith away.<br/>
<br/>
The golem's hair is wet when he slides tardily into his desk behind yours in third period. Sidwell has already started class--he glowers briefly at Tilley, pausing to mark his presence in the grade book--and returns to the lecture, and it's twenty minutes before you can talk to your friend's placeholder. Not that you want to, but you feel a tug the back of your jacket after Sidwell has released the class to do some work, and turn to grasp the note he passes you. "What happened?" you murmur as you glance at the paper, which only says "4:30. Clubhouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Message from him," Tilley says bitterly. "Fucker's having fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you get him off my back?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's his business. If you weren't such a dork--"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't <i>you</i> start with me," he retorts, his voice rising loudly enough that Sidwell raises his head with a frown. "I thought you were a fake, too," he adds in a lower tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Starting tomorrow you can bitch to me <i>about</i> me all you want."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? And where will <i>you</i> be?" <br/>
<br/>
You don't answer.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You arrive early at the clubhouse and get things set up. Not that it takes long, since "setting up" basically consists of setting out two masks: one blank, and one of yourself, which has already been golemized so it is under Keith's control. You pass the remainder of the time idly by the basement windows, keeping watch for Keith and Patterson. Your first warning that they've arrived is two pair of feet striding by the basement window toward the door. You stand up as it opens.<br/>
<br/>
"--snooping. Call it 'investigating'." Seth appears at the top of the steps, and he grins and winks when he catches sight of you. "And look what we found." He saunters jauntily toward you.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson appears behind him, but stops cold at the sight of you. His face tightens as you return his stare. Locked in each other's gaze, you don't react until the disguised Keith catches you and spins you around into a headlock. "Looks like we get to have some fun before we play," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Just leave the fucker," Patterson says, and his lips peel back as Javits frog-marches you toward him. He rears back and his eyes freeze as your feet trip over the bottom step.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, just give him a little punch," Keith chortles. "I'll hold him for you."<br/>
<br/>
Patterson flinches, and even takes a step back. Then, without warning, Keith shoves you toward him. You stumble over the steps and fall forward. So fast you can't see it coming, Patterson swings a fist, catching you on the jaw. Everything goes red, and then your head bangs hard on the metal railing. The world becomes very black and very painful.<br/>
<br/>
Dimly, you're aware of loud voices, and feet trample hard on you. Your limbs feel very far away, and in your dazed state you try to right yourself and claw your way back to consciousness. A dull roar fills your ears, and black quicksand laps at your mind. All feeling drains from you ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your head is throbbing hard when you're aware of anything again, and you lay very still while darkness swirls around you. Eventually you open your eyes, but that doesn't help, as nothing wants to come into focus. Something is tugging at your legs, and you groan. A voice says something, and you slur out a noise in reply. Again the voice speaks, and then you feel your t-shirt being pulled over your head, and again you mumble something. Cold seeps in through your back.<br/>
<br/>
You raise your hand, trying to touch the side of your head, but miss, and the heel of your hand grazes your nose. You take a deep breath, open your eyes again, and focus hard on the ceiling. Again, the voice speaks. "Whut?" you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
"I said, I ain't touchin' your underwear." It's Seth's voice, finally saying something intelligible. You tilt your head, and he comes into view, staring down at you with hands on his hips. "I got the other one dressed," he says, "but he's goin' commando if you don't peel."<br/>
<br/>
Gritting your teeth, you raise halfway up the floor. Another figure glances over as it pulls on a red t-shirt: You blink as your identical twin returns your stare with a hooded stare of his own. He tugs the shirt taut and stands up straight.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ," you gasp. "He hit me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess he didn't want you touching him."<br/>
<br/>
"Where is he? Oh, right." You close your eyes as the other Will Prescott snorts and shakes his head. "So how's it feel being me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably better than it feels being you," the golem replies sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
"It's that damn hex," you grunt. "You should have thought of that before you brought him down here."<br/>
<br/>
"You could've thought of it," Keith says. "Anyway, this'll fix your headache." You numbly take the mask he hands you, and exhale deeply as you fall back and let it drop to your face.<br/>
<br/>
When he comes, it's like he's punching his way in through the hole in the side of your head: cold, arrogant, brutal. You rear back as he settles around you, the tendrils of his mind locking around yours like freezing iron bands. You snarl and snap your eyes open. All the pain has gone, to be replaced by icy fury. <i>Fucking Javits ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You sit up abruptly, naked on the concrete floor except for some tidy whities that bind tightly to your crotch. Legs--impossibly long legs--seem to stretch away into the next county, and you draw them under you as you rise to your feet. The floor falls away, and so does Javits, who has to bend his neck to look you in the face. You glare down coldly at him, and then glance around the clubhouse. It seems much smaller, and much less interesting, than it did before.<br/>
<br/>
You hook a long finger into the back of your underwear and strip it off. "Where's my shit?" Keith jerks his chin, and you swerve so you can knock him hard in the shoulder as you step past. Swiftly you draw on the loose boxers and the long cotton athletic shorts. You fluff out the bit t-shirt and sniff at it. It needs to be laundered, and you briefly consider stuffing it down Javits's throat. Instead, you pull it on with a grimace.<br/>
<br/>
"Better?" Keith grins.<br/>
<br/>
"Same old same old, but better'n you." You lean against the table as you pull ankle socks up over long, bony feet, then crack open ratty sneakers and pull them on. "I should punch you into next Tuesday."<br/>
<br/>
"What for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pushing that Prescott fucker at me." You've only a memory of the horror Steve felt as you closed at him, and a glance at the golem only gives you an impression of the ugly spirit that hovers near it, but it's enough to make you understand why he reacted as he did. There was no thought in that blow, it was the act of a cornered animal striking at something loathsome. "But I'll make you pay." You pause in mid-stride toward the door, for Keith isn't following. "Come on. Are we playing hoops, or are you too chicken-shit to take what's coming?"<br/>
<br/>
He follows with a grimace. That play that ensues is hard fought, until you attain a five-basket lead, when he seems to give up. Then you gloatingly run up the score, just to humiliate him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, when are we gettin' Gordon?" Keith asks eagerly as you rest on the grass next to the blacktop.<br/>
<br/>
"When we get some new masks made," you say. "But what's this 'we' business?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna help me, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucker's not talking to me. You know that. Anyway, you can get him without my help."<br/>
<br/>
"But it'll be easier. Come on, let's go find him. You can kiss and make up."<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking unlikely." You stretch an arm and rub it. "Besides, I got a party I gotta go to tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"What? Where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Over at some Eastman chick's house. Coming out party, or something. I can scope out my prospects there."<br/>
<br/>
"Skip it. Show 'em who's boss." You stare at him until he flinches. "Or go see Gordon first. You don't want to be early, at least."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Study Session
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Who said I was gonna be early?" you retort. "I got entertainment options until then. An' I'll see Gordon on Monday."<br/>
<br/>
Keith has a resentful expression, but you've been playing Patterson so completely that he lapses naturally into Javits' typically cowed manner. You just grunt as he suggests he'll see you tomorrow at Blackwell's.<br/>
<br/>
You slide into Patterson's economy compact and glare resentfully at your friend as he gets into his truck. Patterson's parents aren't terribly well-off--his dad is a supermarket store manager, and there are still outstanding debts from a medical crisis a few years back--so this shitty little thing is all that Patterson has been able to afford on his own. From a distant place you are amused at the seething covetousness that ripples through Patterson's head. <i>You</i> ought to have a truck like that. No, a bigger one. Or an SUV like the one Seth got to ride in when he was dating Cindy, and he'd get shuttled around by Cindy's older sister.<br/>
<br/>
Your cock stirs. <i>Oh yeah, Lucy.</i> Too bad about her. She had no time for you when you were a freshman and she was a senior, and now it's too late. But Cindy's not a bad knockoff ... Ah, but there's no need for that. There are some totally hot cheerleaders at Eastman, and it's all fresh meat. ... You'll have to find out if there's a fuck room at Eastman, that's the one thing you'll miss at Westside. And Caleb is bound to score some hot girls at the university ... <br/>
<br/>
Amused by these crowded thoughts, you drive home, landing briefly in your room before hitting the shower. You take lots of time, and lots of soap and hot water, and jerk off hard while you're in there, to get yourself acquainted with Patterson's equipment. Everything works real fine. <br/>
<br/>
Afterward, you dress down in clean athletic shorts and a thin white t-shirt; you don't bother with socks or shoes. Despite what you told Keith, the party isn't until tomorrow night, so you curl up in the chair at the desk like a long-limbed spider and bend over the magic book.<br/>
<br/>
You've already repaired the torn page--a simple matter, once you were able to interpret the page correctly. Last week, while working on the masks, you'd made up a mind strip and laid it against the book; it had briefly disappeared inside the <i>Libra</i>, and then you'd laid it against the torn page, which had instantly repaired itself, allowing you to turn it. The subsequent spell, however, looked tremendously difficult--the recipe was laid out as a sigil--and you'd laid it aside while concentrating on the new masks.<br/>
<br/>
Now that you have more leisure time, you turn your attention to it. But though you have to fight your way through Patterson's native dullness, you gradually begin to perceive its outlines. It makes a new kind of band--like the mind-bands--but these appear to be of a different and more powerful kind. A phrase that seems to translate as "animating principle" recurs often within it. Only when a translation website turns up the word "anima" does something click inside your head. You take out your cell phone and call Blackwell's house. The magician answers, but it proves to be Caleb in disguise. "You gonna be around," you ask. "I need to pick up some books."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be here all evening," he replies. "You sound strange."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm using Patterson's voice. Keith and I got him this afternoon. Oh, is he out there?" Caleb grunts a negative. "Good. I'm avoiding him."<br/>
<br/>
"Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eh, just don't feel like dealing with him. I told him I have a party tonight, but I lied about that. I'm trying to figure out the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"Commendable," he says. "But may I inquire as to why you decline to associate with our colleague?"<br/>
<br/>
It takes you a moment to translate the question. "Because he's being needy. Wanted me to go with him and butter up Gordon so he could take him. Fuck that. He picked Eastman, he can get Gordon and Chelsea himself."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmmm. Well, I'll be here."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by 'Hmmm'?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just, 'hmmm.' But the library is at your disposal, of course."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He watche carefully as you pick through the stacks, and guides you as you ask about certain titles and subjects. The search yields a depressingly large pile of tomes, but after thumbing through a couple you are able to narrow it down to one. "Anima?" Caleb muses, scratching the beard of the man whose face he is wearing. "An advanced concept."<br/>
<br/>
"It's an advanced spell," you retort. You settle at a desk with it and pour through it, occasionally cross-referencing it with the <i>Libra.</i> After an hour or so you close the books and lean back with your eyes closed. "I think I've got it," you murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"We agreed not to open each spell outside the presence of the other two," he says in a warning tone.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna open the next spell. I'm just gonna perform this one. You got an extra band laying around? Not a mind band, just a strip."<br/>
<br/>
"I have several. You've not inquired as to my progress in acquiring a student position at the university, but I've prepared several mind bands to be placed upon promising prospects."<br/>
<br/>
"Say it, don't spray it. Go get me one of the blankety-blank ones."<br/>
<br/>
"You certainly have acquired a facility for imitating Patterson, haven't you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Back at you," you mutter at his retreating form as he exits the library.<br/>
<br/>
After he returns you bend over the metal strip and work the runes into its surface. It's exacting work, for the runes are subtle, and the lines have to intertwine in just such a way and no other. "What does it do?" Caleb asks when you stretch your arms at the completion of the job.<br/>
<br/>
"Copies <i>anima.</i> Duh. You're smart enough to figure that out. At least, when you're looking like <i>this</i>." You gesture at him.<br/>
<br/>
He smiles sourly. "I suspected as much, but was rather hopeful it did something else. To the extent that the duplication of <i>anima</i> merely recapitulates the work of an ordinary mind band, it seems redundant. To the extent that it goes beyond that--" He frowns.<br/>
<br/>
You steeple your fingers and crack your knuckles. "Yeah, well, the sigil sure seems like it copies the entire <i>anima.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"If so-- Well, if that is the case, then placing the band upon a certain person, and then placing the band upon yourself, you would acquire--"<br/>
<br/>
"Everything that makes them into <i>them.</i> With most people that's not much. Not much beyond what the mind band would give you."<br/>
<br/>
"But in the case of those with magical abilities," he says slowly. "Or, rather, those who are adept at magic--"<br/>
<br/>
"Like the late Professor Blackwell. Or me ..."<br/>
<br/>
Dusk has well progressed by this point, and the library seems very dark. "I doubt it could penetrate a mask," says Caleb quietly. "I mean, if one tried to place it upon someone who was wearing a mask."<br/>
<br/>
"None of us is likely to take a mask off. At least, not willingly."<br/>
<br/>
"Then this device you've made is useful only for unlocking the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose so. Well, then that's it for the night." You stand and start to gather up your things.<br/>
<br/>
"You will abide by our promise not to open any more spells without myself and Keith around, won't you?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you trust me?" You flush. "Here," you add before he can answer. "You can keep the <i>Libra</i> and the <i>anima</i> band, until tomorrow, when we all get together. Since you're so keen on keeping that promise." He looks pained. "I wanna borrow this book on <i>anima,</i> though. I wanna read up some more on it, in case we've missed something."<br/>
<br/>
"It seems to me that we've covered the salient points, but as you desire." You snort, and leave the house without a further word.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But late that night, after further reading, you decide you have spotted an additional angle. <i>Anima</i> covers everything that makes a person into the person that they are, and the discussion in the book makes clear that this even covers the sense of identity. If Caleb copied your <i>anima</i> and then placed it upon himself, he would become convinced that he <i>was</i> you; and, symmetrically, if you copied him, you'd become convinced that you were <i>him.</i> The bands are thus a way of doubling the number of people out in the world, but doubling them while disguised as other people. You would be turning the victims into psychological duplicates of the copied person.<br/>
<br/>
You ponder the strategic possibilities. Turn Caleb and Keith into your duplicates of yourself? That seems promising, until you remember that your duplicates would have your own abilities. And if you're the kind of asshole who would double-cross your friend, you'd be creating twins who would ... double-cross you?<br/>
<br/>
But there's no point in putting their <i>anima</i> upon yourself; that would be a way of obliterating yourself.<br/>
<br/>
It's nearly midnight, and you change into pajamas and slide into bed, but you stare at the dark ceiling, still absorbed in the problem. What about putting Caleb and Keith's <i>anima</i> onto other people? If Caleb and Keith are willing to help you, then their twins would be willing to help you. And the bands are removable, so these allies would only be temporary.<br/>
<br/>
Interesting ... But still dangerous.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Bands, Plans, and Parties
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>But it still seems like a risk worth taking, so when you meet Caleb and Keith at Blackwell's on Saturday afternoon, you lead them through your reasoning. Caleb, naturally, grasps the implications right away, but Keith takes a little longer to understand. At the end, though, he also nods approvingly. "These things could be really useful," he says enthusiastically. "I've been thinking I kinda got the short straw on this deal."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're only letting us have five masks, right?" he says. "Two of mine are already stuck on golems. Myself and Will, I mean. That leaves me only three to use on people who count."<br/>
<br/>
"Way to have a high opinion of me," you grumble. "And of yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I mean. Seth makes three. That leaves me with only two masks to use, on Gordon and Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"There is nothing wrong with those two," Caleb says. "Why are you complaining?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just sayin' that with these <i>anime</i> whatchamacallits, I can have more. Like, I'm supposed to hit this party tonight over at Kendra's. She's been making eyes at me," he adds, waggling his eyebrows lasciviously. "She knows a good thing when she sees it. Anyway, with these things, <i>bam!</i>, I can add her to the group."<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't be able to switch into her."<br/>
<br/>
"No loss," he shrugs. "Why would I wanna give myself a blow job?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the point," you say, grinding your teeth a little. "She wouldn't be a slave. She'd be just like <i>you</i> would be, if you were inside her. Would you give Seth a blow job?"<br/>
<br/>
"Of course not! I--" He stops and frowns. "Oh, shit!"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly," Caleb says. "Will is right. These things should only be used temporarily, to secure control of person of interest, and only briefly."<br/>
<br/>
"And I don't want any copies of myself, even temporarily," you say. "So I suggest we make up six of these things, three of each of you." You point to your compatriots. "Keith gets two of his, Caleb gets two of his, and I get one of each of you."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb mulls this a while, then gives his approval; Keith looks unhappy, but acquiesces. Following that, Caleb fetches supplies from upstairs, and you make up five more of them, and use one to unlock the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't tackle that spell right away, for the afternoon has worn on in the meantime, and you have to get ready for tonight. Back at home, you dress in dark jeans and socks and loafers; a white t-shirt and a red denim shirt that you tuck back above your wrists. You shave and clip your nails and carefully brush your short hair down, and end by tucking the two <i>anima</i> bands into your pocket after snapping your watch onto your wrist.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The party is being held at the house of Alyssa Randal, one of the Eastman cheerleaders. It's a large house on an expansive lot in one of the tonier parts of town, and there are already a lot of cars parked out front when you arrive. The door is answered by Alyssa herself, a dark-skinned African-American with a shapely body squeezed tightly inside jeans and a brightly colored, floral-patterned top. "The man of hour," she exclaims, and slips an arm around your torso as she leads you in. "Hey guys," she calls over the gently murmuring beat of light pop music. "Patterson's here!"<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson!" "Steve!" "Yoo!" Ian Carpenter, Eastman's team captain, strides up with upraised palm. You slap it and turn it into a hearty handclasp. "Nice to see you someplace decent for a change," he says. You smile back lazily, and he turns to gesture at a few others. "You know Shawn and Brett, right?" They're two more of the Eastman squad. "The others will dribble in eventually."<br/>
<br/>
"Is Straussler showing up with that tan of his?"<br/>
<br/>
Ian laughs. "He'll be along at some point. If you're nice to him he might invite you up to his ski lodge over Christmas."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll kick his ass if he doesn't," you chuckle. Jonathan Straussler's parents are loaded--as in hundreds of millions of dollars--and Patterson's native envy flares up within you. <i>Oh, yeah, he'll invite you up there. Or, more accurately, you'll invite Patterson after you've made Straussler into one of your mobile homes.</i> "What are you drinking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wine coolers," Alyssa says. "We also have pop."<br/>
<br/>
"A cooler would taste real sweet," you smile, hiding your disappointment that there won't be beer. You catch a subtle change on Ian's face, and his eyes twinkle as he winks at you. So maybe there <i>will</i> be beer ...<br/>
<br/>
You slowly make the rounds, carefully listening to and noting each name and the face it goes with, less because you're keen to know them than because you want to remember who is who for when it becomes time to pick a vehicle or two. The girls all gaze up raptly at you; most of them flush with pleasure and embarrassment, and you smile indulgently back at them. But you notice that it's Alyssa who can't keep her hands off you. With a light touch to your shoulder, or elbow, or back--and once to your ass--she guides you from corner to corner before bringing you to a halt behind a buffet table spread with fancy cheeses and crackers and little meats and spiced vegetables and rices. It amuses you to see her spread a number of these items onto a broad leaf of Romaine lettuce and wrap them up into a little bundle, which she holds up to your mouth. You take it in directly, and she lets her fingers rest momentarily between your teeth and lips before withdrawing it with a sharp smile.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Who's the best guy on the Eastman team?" So asks Kyle Lakewood, who isn't a basketball player, but captains Eastman's first-rate soccer squad.<br/>
<br/>
You're saved from having to make a decision by Jenny Taylor, his girlfriend. "No, who's the best guy who's <i>not</i> currently on the team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Easy," you reply. "Me. Technically, I don't start until next Monday."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm the best," says a blonde kid, jumping into the conversation. "If you're asking about <i>Eastman</i> guys not on the team."<br/>
<br/>
"Ignore Karter," Jenny says. "He's just sore because he didn't make <i>his</i> tryout."<br/>
<br/>
"Karter's right," Kyle says. The kid grins until Kyle adds, "Except he's only the best of a bad lot. All the <i>good</i> players are already on the team." Karter raises a middle finger, which only elicits good-natured laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Where are the Durras boys," you ask, craning your neck as you gaze over the tops of the heads of the crowd. "I've heard good things about 'em, but haven't seen 'em in action."<br/>
<br/>
"Frank and Joe?" Alyssa asks. "They said they might show up, but they had some kind of business that might keep them away."<br/>
<br/>
"Posers," Karter mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"You've been in a bad mood ever since they showed up," Jenny says, somewhat waspishly. "All the girls stopped hanging on you and started going for Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"Blonde twerp," Karter says, somewhat sourly.<br/>
<br/>
Kyle laughs. "That's what he calls <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"If I want my ego punctured I'll hang around Yves. Speaking of which, is <i>she</i> showing up?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think she sneered something about a 'testosterone sauna' when I asked her," Alyssa says. "I took that as a no."<br/>
<br/>
"It's pretty civilized in here," you observe. "It needs beer."<br/>
<br/>
The uncomfortable silence that ensues tells you that you've made a mistake. But it rebounds to your benefit when Alyssa tucks her arm again in yours and tugs. "Come on, some more people have showed up. You should mingle."<br/>
<br/>
She leads you past a few newcomers, but firmly guides you into a back bedroom. "Actually, we do have something a little stronger," she murmurs as she leads you up to a cabinet. "Me and Ian were going to save it until most everyone else had left, but I don't want you to be unhappy." She opens the cabinet, revealing a small and very expensive looking bottle. "Just one for right now, if you can't wait." She sounds disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, I was hoping for something else." You put an arm around her waist and draw her close. Her eyebrows cock expectantly. But instead of leaning forward for a kiss, you raise your free hand and press a band onto her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
She weakens without sagging completely, and her breath becomes sharp and shallow. Then she stiffens and glances around. Slowly, she puts fingertips softly to her face. A slow grin spreads, and then she looks up at you with a sardonic smile. "Oh, very nice."<br/>
<br/>
"Who am I talking to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa Randal, of course," she replies. "But when it's just the two of us you can call me Caleb Johansson."<br/>
<br/>
"Then I've still got Keith in my pocket. Do I need to put him in play tonight?"<br/>
<br/>
She ponders your question as she pours a small tumbler of the Scotch and hands it to you. It is very smoky and very smooth as it slides warmly down your gullet. "Depends on how fast you wanna move. You have any masks ready to go?" You shake your head. "Then maybe you better give it to me. I know everyone worth knowing."<br/>
<br/>
That raises the other possibility: Alyssa, it appears, is a perfect vehicle to use yourself.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121211
author_id: gigantorzzz
title: Leave "Caleb" inside Alyssa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You just go and find someone," you say. "But she's worth taking, isn't she?" <br/>
<br/>
She gets a sly look. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I kind of like her."<br/>
<br/>
"So, is it my imagination, or does she have a thing for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not the way you're hoping," she giggles. "Scuttlebutt says Steve Patterson need taming." She draws a finger down your chest. "And she thinks she's just the one to tame him."<br/>
<br/>
"Not likely. Is there a fuck room at Westside? You know, where guys like me can score on campus?"<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face, then catches herself. "That's Alyssa talking," she mutters. "Yeah, kind of, but it's for losers. Just a janitor's closet where guys can sneak in for a quick blow job."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "We'll have to fix that after I've got a full crew in place. Who would you recommend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll think through the possibilities," she says. "Come on, we should go back before anyone comes looking for us." As she passes, you cup her buttocks with an appreciative hand.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the party is kind of boring, but it passes well enough. It ends with you and Ian and Alyssa alone back in the bedroom, where you raise a trio of glasses. "Here's to new situations," you say, and settle a glinting eye on Ian. "We're gonna make great partners." Alyssa laughs, which elicits a puzzled glance from Ian. Well, let him wonder what you mean ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
"There you are!" Keith glares at you sourly as you saunter into Blackwell's library on Sunday afternoon. "Fuck, man, you gotta help me with Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we're not speaking." You hook the leg of a chair with your foot and pull it out before dropping into it heavily. You lean back with your hands clasped behind your head. "Get him yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"He won't hang out with me. He totally ignored me at the party last night. You know what he's like. It's just the two of you in your own private club."<br/>
<br/>
"And Lynch." You snort: Lynch is a loser, and it baffles you that Gordon has the time of day for him. "Use one of those anima bands to capture him. Or, I dunno, use it on Kendra like you were talking about, and use her to get to Chelsea. You've got options."<br/>
<br/>
Keith starts to argue again, but Caleb interrupts him. "We have other business we have to discuss." He sits down heavily and folds his hands. "We had visitors at the villa last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you all done up like that fat old fucker," Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"To preserve the illusion that the owner is still in residence," Caleb patiently replies. "To better preserve the illusion, I should have you strapping young men doing some yard work for me, but I know it would be pointless to ask."<br/>
<br/>
"Who were these visitors?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I knew. It was last night, before I retired. The gwacharweid caught trespassers outside. I heard shouts. They must have excited the beast, for it became quite violent. This morning I found that several outside windows had been destroyed."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." You glance over at the vampire cyclops-monkey, grinning in its alcove. You shift uneasily. "That thing is trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't sleep well in this house, but I do sleep better for knowing it is watching over things," Caleb replies. "But a move might behoove us. I have already recruited a student to help me scout out alternative abodes."<br/>
<br/>
"Speak English, can't you," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wait for the young lady in question to explain things. She will be along shortly."<br/>
<br/>
"A girl, huh?" Keith waggles his eyebrows. "Hot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Quite cool and damp, actually," Caleb replies. "You will be even less pleased when I tell you that it is your anima band sitting inside her.<br/>
<br/>
You talk a little more about plans--Caleb has three new masks made up, which the golems should have finished polishing by Tuesday--until the girl shows up. Her name is Melody Weiss, and true to Caleb's description, she is very plain and pinched in the face. She is rather sulky, too--the Keith-personality sitting inside her doesn't like its situation--and Keith himself watches her with evident distaste. Caleb has asked her to scout out possible faculty acquisitions, and she rattles off a list, but none of the names mean anything to you.<br/>
<br/>
"If you're not going to use that blank mask you're hoarding," you say to Caleb when a moment offers itself, "how about letting me have it? I got a use for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't I have it?" Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
You start to argue with him, and your voices rise as you try to shout over each other, until Caleb raises a hand. "The smart thing would be for me to keep it, to keep you two from fighting over it. But I'll give it to you, Will." You smirk as Keith frowns fiercely. "In the meantime," he continues as he hands the three new blank masks to Keith, "you can take these to school and give them to the golems. When they're done, you can take one and I'll take two."<br/>
<br/>
"But why does Will get that one of yours now?" Keith insists.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I assume he's trying to get into Eastman, and he needs a mask for that," Caleb says. "And since you're still at Westside, you'll be getting the new blanks from the golems as soon as they're done."<br/>
<br/>
Keith still grumbles, and is in such a bad mood that he grabs up the new batch of masks and exits early. "Guy's stepping on my last nerve," you say after he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you used his anima band on anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm going to try not to. I've got your band on someone, though."<br/>
<br/>
"May I ask who?"<br/>
<br/>
"An Eastman cheerleader. Hot. And black."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm. Transgressive." He smiles faintly. "Still, however much Keith annoys you, we should all try to remain friendly. After all, he has our placeholders in his care."<br/>
<br/>
You don't ask what that means, and it's not until you after you've left that the insinuated meaning sinks in: The golems of Will Prescott, Caleb Johansson, and Keith Tilley are at Westside with him, and the golem of yourself is actually under his control. He has already complained about not having enough masks. If he wanted to get rid of your placeholders, he could.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<br/>
Still, the problem is only theoretical, and you doubt Keith will actually do anything so stupid as to arrange for "accidents" to befall the fake Will Prescott, Caleb Johansson, and Keith Tilley. And right now you've got a blank mask burning a hole in your pocket and a really good idea.<br/>
<br/>
You have been so pre-occupied and entranced by the new spells that you have forgotten about golems made from mounds of graveyard dirt. The answer is indeed so simple. Make the golem with your <i>essentia</i> and you just need to create ordinary masks of girls that Patterson probably couldn't or wouldn't want to bag in public. You still need to golemize some key people, but for girls who're just good for fucking, you don't have to use your resources on them, plus, the golem would be good to polish up extra masks and Caleb can give Keith more mask. Hope the guy's happy.<br/>
<br/>
Having established that, you decide to get hold of Alyssa, calling her up and arranging a meeting; and for old times' sake you choose the Westside fuck room as the rendezvous point. To your dismay, though, you find the door unlocked when you arrive. Gordon glares up at you as you enter, and Lynch grins smugly. "You've got your fucking nerve," Gordon growls.<br/>
<br/>
"I still have a week here," you retort. "We should try to get along."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not coming to practice anymore," he declares. "And give back your key to this place." His eye falls upon Alyssa, who has peeked around the corner into the room. "Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
"Give us a moment alone, will you, Lynch?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I wanna watch," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wait down in the gym," Alyssa says. "It'll be lonely," she adds, and you note that she's giving Lynch a come-hither look. Good girl, you think. After she ducks out, Lynch glances between you and the door, and then springs to his feet and follows her out.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Gordon," you shrug after he's gone. "You don't want me at practice, I get it. That's fine. I'll just head over to Eastman after classes, practice with them." He curses. "I guess we're gonna be rivals now, but it doesn't have to be ugly."<br/>
<br/>
"It can be as ugly as you want it to be, you fucker."<br/>
<br/>
You unsling the workout bag from your shoulder, dropping it to the floor. He leaps to his feet--apparently either expecting or wanting a fight--and you raise your palms. "No, it'll be as ugly as you want it. We'll be at separate schools, but we don't have to be on different teams."<br/>
<br/>
That catches his attention. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I can give a hundred percent when playing against other schools. Against Westside? Maybe less?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares. "That's the most fucked up thing I've ever heard."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to make it easy." You suddenly feel very weary of his company. Even though you plan on completing your move into Eastman this evening, through Alyssa--and even though you know that Gordon will not be himself much longer--you spitefully feel the desire to take Gordon out yourself. Now.<br/>
<br/>
You can get another mask pretty soon. It might also stand you in good stead with Keith if you used this opportunity to snag Gordon for him.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211212111
author_id: maximaw
title: Alyssa's Connections
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Gordon's stare doesn't intimidate you more than it further fuel your distaste of him and his hostile behaviour. ''Fine,'' you held up your hands in mock surrender as you start walking. You feel Gordon's gaze follows you as you slowly walk around him, discreetly you put a hand in your pocket to fish out the mask. As soon as you're behind him you strike. <br/>
<br/>
''Fucker,'' Gordon seethes, ''You piece of -,'' you never hear the rest of the sentence as you thrust your arm forward until you finally feel the mask making contact with Gordon Black's face. The big man crumples on to the floor as the mask disappears into his face.<br/>
<br/>
''Fuck <i>you</i>,'' you sink to your knees, merely inches from the unconscious captain of Westside's basketball team. The whole ordeal leaves you shaken but adrenaline remains in your body. You recount the horror of having Black's face up close and personal in your face. The stinging sensation in your arm and the finger marks left there remind you of where Black managed to momentarily halt your attempt.<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the door, looking to see if Caleb-infused Alyssa is still keeping Lynch distracted. <br/>
<br/>
The mask re-appears soon enough from Gordon's face. Hastily, you collect it and your other belongings before going down to fetch Alyssa and make a quick exit from the gym to your car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''This should make Keith happy,'' Alyssa looks at you, her fingers glides over the brilliant blue surface of Gordon's mask. <br/>
<br/>
''He better be,'' you grumble, before dialling Javits' number. ''Yo Javits.''<br/>
<br/>
''Will!'' comes the reply from the other side.<br/>
<br/>
''It's <i>Patterson</i>,'' you grit your teeth, ''Get it right,'' you remind your accomplice on the importance of keeping up appearances.<br/>
<br/>
''Well, it's just us here talking isn't it?'', he says insolently.<br/>
<br/>
You decide to let his impunity goes unpunished, ''I've got Gordon, meet me in the school basement.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Seth whistles appreciatively at your companion when you arrive in the basement, ''Sweet,'' he gives Alyssa a once look over whilst the golem of Will Prescott checks her out too.<br/>
<br/>
''Why'd you bring him here?'', you motion at the Will Prescott golem. You feel the remnants of Patterson's loathing towards Will but another part of you loathes that the golem wearing your face is Keith's.<br/>
<br/>
''He got the keys,'' Seth says non-chalantly.<br/>
<br/>
''So, is she a golem too?'', the golem with your face points at Alyssa.<br/>
<br/>
''No. <i>Alyssa</i>, nice to meet you two, ''Alyssa grins impishly and points at herself, ''But in private, you can call me Caleb'', she finishes her sentence as her hands runs over her breasts before fondling them appreciatively. You feel something stirring in your pants and you doubt that you are the only one that has been affected.<br/>
<br/>
''Caleb's under there?'', a look of confusion glazes over Will's face, ''I thought he was supposed to be in the university?'' He looks uncertainly at Javits.<br/>
<br/>
''It's Caleb's <i>anime</i> you doofus,'' Keith corrects the golem under his control.<br/>
<br/>
''It's <i>anima</i> you dumbass,'' you feel the urge to punch Keith in his borrowed face, ''You and your Pokemon shit.''<br/>
<br/>
Again you see Javits cower, but he recomposes himself, ''So where'd you put mine? My <i>anima</i>.''<br/>
<br/>
''Never mind that, you owe me my mask and I want it back quickly.'', you conclude the conversation as you press the Gordon's mask to Javits hand. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''I have an idea for Keith's <i>anima</i>,'' Alyssa strokes your thigh lightly, but enough to capture your attention away from watching Javits and Prescott drives away. <br/>
<br/>
''Yeah?'', you look look at Alyssa's delectable form who is riding shotgun.<br/>
<br/>
''Remember Chris Yves?''<br/>
<br/>
You blink. You've heard the name before, but couldn't match a face to it. <br/>
<br/>
''Was she in the party?'', you say, referring to the party where you got Caleb's <i>anima</i> on Alyssa.<br/>
<br/>
''No,'' Alyssa says dismissively, ''She has her fingers in lots of pies. Moves between groups smoothly. Between me and her, I say we cover a lot of grounds in Eastman.''<br/>
<br/>
''Let's get her then,'' you say lazily, ''The sooner I get started, the better.''<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa nods in agreement and whips out her phone. ''Hey girl,'' Alyssa says excitedly to what you think is Chris Yves on the other end, ''You missed a great party last night!'', Alyssa looks at you and grins, ''Oh, anyway, I want to introduce you to someone new.''</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112121111
author_id: maximaw
title: Yves Meets Keith
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''Where's the band?'', Alyssa says when you pull up in front of Chris Yves' house. You crane your neck to take a good look at the house. It certainly isn't as big as Alyssa's but it has an adjoining garage. A van is parked right outside it. From the things that you've seen until now, it's clear that Eastman bunch are indeed more wealthier than their Westside counterpart. <i>Jonathan Straussler</i>, you thought to yourself. <br/>
<br/>
''Here,'' you hand Alyssa the <i>anima</i> band with Keith's name on it. <br/>
<br/>
''Good,'' Alyssa promptly takes the band and tucks it into her jeans pocket, ''Let me do the talking.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''Yves,'' Alyssa beams before she pulls a girl into a friendly hug which lingers a little bit longer than normal. ''There's someone I want you to meet. Steve Patterson,'' she introduces you, ''He starts on Monday.''<br/>
<br/>
''Nice to meet you,'' Yves extends a hand for you to shake.<br/>
<br/>
''Yeah,'' you say as you shake her hands, not the usual kind of introduction that Steve would like, but the Yves girl has a lot of confidence behind that handshake. ''So, Alyssa's been telling me that you know a lot of people in Eastman?'' The girl isn't extraordinarily pretty or well endowed, but she exudes an aura of warmth and confidence that pulls people in. Her face is adorned with multiple piercings, and framed with short brown hair that matches the colour of her iris. Her body is slim and wiry.<br/>
<br/>
''I just take an interest in their life, that's all.'' <br/>
<br/>
From the corner of your eyes, you glimpse Alyssa fishing something out from her pocket, ''There's someone else I want you to meet.'' Alyssa holds Yves' wrist and slaps the <i>anima</i> band on her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Chris leads Alyssa and you into the house and then inside the garage that you first saw. The garage has seemingly been converted into a spare storage room. Stacks of cardboard boxes, tools and other odd bits and bobs scattered around, from the dust that has been accumulated, these things have been there for quite some time. <br/>
<br/>
However, the garage doesn't entirely function as a storage of sorts. There is a clear area in the centre of the garage which Chris has turned into a practice area for her band. Five brightly coloured bean bags lie on the floor. You sink into one of them and gaze at the ceiling, to see posters of a band called the Ramones. <i>Crap shit</i>, you thought, you've never heard from these people before.<br/>
<br/>
''I could use a place like this, slap a mask on a golem,'' you say to Chris, ''Have a bit of fun.'' Your hand reaches up to Alyssa's buttocks and give it an appreciative squeeze.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa makes a face at you before she catches herself, ''Maybe,'' a smirk creeps on Alyssa's face as Chris saunters closer to her, ''Unless Chris has something similar in her mind. She's quite the popular girl, you know.''<br/>
<br/>
''You could be the first,'' Chris grins, before pulling Alyssa in for a kiss. You feel a tent forming on your pants as the two girls are locked in an embrace, the two of them hungrily explore each other's mouth.. They briefly break off, only to resume again.<br/>
<br/>
''Unless the two of you are going to invite me in, stop being a tease.'' You say irritably, to which the two girls giggle after they break the embrace.<br/>
<br/>
''We'll continue this tomorrow? At school?'' Chris says impishly as she sinks into a bean bag. <br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, Alyssa leans over you and traces her hand from your chest down to your abdominal muscle, and touches your raging tent with the tip of her index finger before pulling away, ''You'll have your turn soon.''<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You spent the rest of the day deciphering the next spell on the <i>Librae</i>. It was tough work and you were further hampered by Patterson's dullness. The only break you got was when Caleb rang you out of the blue to whine at how difficult it was to set himself up in the university and how easy taking Eastman and Westside is for you and Keith. Something that you dismissed straight away, and explained on how you helped Keith to get Gordon earlier.<br/>
<br/>
Otherwise, your study of the book doesn't lead to too much discovery, and you take a break from it for the day. The Book hints at a sigil and application of a layer of varnish that would seemingly clear a mask of the image that it holds, but you are reluctant to use Patterson's mask for the experiment. You don't have the mask of Yumi and of yourself that was enslaved to you as Caleb holds on to them, but you are too tired to call Caleb again and to explain the whole thing to him. Perhaps those masks have been destroyed, by magical or non-magical means. <br/>
<br/>
Laying on the bed, you still couldn't get the thoughts of sigils and masks out from your head, but it wasn't long until sleep engulfs you.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121211111
author_id: maximaw
title: New Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your mood gets better the next morning after you received a call from Javits. Apparently the golems have finished their chore of buffing the blank masks. Keith proposed a meeting in Blackwell's villa after school so that he could distribute the masks to you and Caleb, much to your surprise. Perhaps you have been giving your friend a lot less credit than he might deserve. The news renews your desire to progress further with the Book. After all, there isn't much to do as Patterson doesn't officially start on Monday. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Seth's face is smug as he hands you a blank mask and he carries the same irritating expression as he hands another blank mask to Caleb who is wearing Blackwell's mask. <br/>
<br/>
''Why aren't you using Gordon's mask yet?'' you ask Keith after pocketing your blank mask away.<br/>
<br/>
''I'm still having fun at the moment,'' Keith shrugs and lay back on the sofa, ''Seth and Cindy, they're not really a couple anymore. I'm like in a buffet dude, girls are lining up to get a piece of Seth Javits.'' <br/>
<br/>
The native envy in Patterson stirs inside of you.<i>Fucker</i>. Whilst you aren't even set up yet in Eastman, Keith has started bagging girls in Westside. <br/>
<br/>
''Being in Gordon isn't that fun either,'' Keith continues, ''I took a peek inside his mind after I got back and it wasn't great at all.''<br/>
<br/>
''Chelsea had him under her thumbs hasn't she?'', you mutter. Heck, it is probably Chelsea who persuaded Gordon to let Seth runs free. Inflicts more pain to Cindy  by letting her ex-boyfriend help himself with other girls. Patterson didn't use to bother himself with the dynamics of the drama in the cheerleader's squad, but he has learned that it pays to understand the group and he understand that Chelsea and Cindy aren't exactly the best of friends with Cindy's late sister being the captain of the cheerleader squad before Chelsea succeeded her. <br/>
<br/>
Keith nods in agreement, ''And he has home problems too. When I get home as Seth, I don't have to worry about getting beat up by a cop, '' he pauses, referring to Gordon's father, ''Well, at least I learned to use power tools to polish these goddamned things,'' Keith pulls out his blank mask,'' Made life so much easier.''<br/>
<br/>
''If our associate has discovered an avenue by which we may increase our efficiency, I hope he do not mind to assist us further on this matter,'' Blackwell finally speaks.<br/>
<br/>
You blink twice as Patterson's mind registers those words, Javits himself frowns.<br/>
<br/>
''I have in my possession three masks which could use a thorough buffing, Mr. Javits,'' Blackwell explains further, ''Once the deed is done, each of us will take one mask.''<br/>
<br/>
''<i>Jesus</i>, Caleb. Speak English.'' Javits exclaims. <br/>
<br/>
''If you gentlemen would wait, I shall procure those masks from my study.'', a smug grin appears on Blackwell's face. It seems that the <i>asshole</i> is having fun befuddling you and Javits.<br/>
<br/>
''Bring some of those golem mix and knockout powder as well,'' you shout as Blackwell makes his way.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''Why do you need my mask for?'' Javits eyes you suspiciously.<br/>
<br/>
''I told you, I need to get set up in Eastman,'' you try to control your temper although perhaps you may have seethed, ''You've got Seth and Cindy. I got you Gordon, '' you remind Keith of the favour you had done for him, ''Plus, you can keep my share of blank mask after you finished buffing it.''<br/>
<br/>
Javits looks at you uncertainly before glancing nervously at Blackwell, but in the end he concedes and reluctantly places his blank mask on your outstretched palm. <br/>
<br/>
''You owe me one,'' Javits says.<br/>
<br/>
Before Keith can change his mind, you pocket the mask. It clinks as it brushes against your blank mask. ''No,'' you glare at him, ''We're even now.''<br/>
<br/>
''Who are you going to hang them on?'', Caleb did more than just get the golemising mixture and knockout powders which have been placed into a tub and a pouch respectively, but he has taken off Blackwell's mask and don on a face that you have never seen before.<br/>
<br/>
''You'll see, '' you conclude the conversation about your plan and instead asks Caleb about his newest face, ''Who's that?''<br/>
<br/>
''Someone from university, <i>Andy Henson</i>,'' Caleb introduces the face he is wearing, ''The guy's loaded, makes a change from being Blackwell.''</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211212111111
author_id: maximaw
title: Continue
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''I've got something else for you,'' you pull out a padlock and throw it to Seth, ''I'll need someplace to do the swaps, so we'll be using this new one for the basement,'' you quickly say, referring to the elementary school basement, before Keith has the chance to ask questions. Brandishing three identical keys, you let Seth and Andy pick their own, before pocketing your own.<br/>
<br/>
By the time you returned to Patterson's it was already getting very late and it was even later that you were able to get some time for yourself to learn more about the next spell in the <i>Librae</i>. You rub your eyes, tired from the hours you put in on your attempt to get the Book to spill more of its secret. Although still reluctant to use Patterson's mask for experimentation, you feel that you've progressed further into the Book enough to put into motion your steps.<br/>
<br/>
You grab Patterson's phone and dial a number<br/>
<br/>
''Yo, <i>Caleb</i>, ''you say as you hear Alyssa's voice on the other side, ''Clear Alyssa's schedule tomorrow after school and come to the elementary school basement,'' <br/>
<br/>
After a quick check with Seth to confirm that he has changed the padlock and that he will stay away until you finish your business, there's nothing more to do than to turn on Patterson's game console to kill some time.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
Despite your request for her to meet you straight after the last class is finished, it was much later in the afternoon that you saw Alyssa's car pull up by the elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
''Where've you been?'', you ask Alyssa as the two of you walk to inside the abandoned building.<br/>
<br/>
''Cheer practice,'' Alyssa says smoothly, almost brushing you off, 'Why are we here?''<br/>
<br/>
''I'm golemizing Alyssa.'' you say abruptly, '' and the Yves girl too.''<br/>
<br/>
''I thought you're going to let me keep her?,'' the Caleb infused Alyssa sits on a dilapidated table, referring to herself ''besides I've found someone for you to golemize.'' <br/>
<br/>
''I'll be able to ask the golem,'' you say curtly and swiftly peels Caleb's <i>anima</i> band. Alyssa weakens and you slap a blank mask that already had a mind strip soldered to her face before you take off Patterson's mask.<br/>
<br/>
You aren't really comfortable not having Alyssa Randal and Christine Yves golemized, they are simply too important to be left under the influence of Caleb and Keith. As they are not slaves, you have no control over them, neither does Caleb or Keith which may create complication later on.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as you come to, you take some strands of your hair and golemize the mask of Alyssa. However, before you plop the golemized mask on the original, you take the golemized mask of Patterson and takes out a bottle of varnish which you have made according to the spell that you've been studying. The varnish wasn't particularly hard to create although you have to rummage around the cleaning cabinet and going on a short trip to the local supermarket and you were able to make a small tub of sealant as well. You then re-buff the mask and true to the <i>Librae's</i> words, Patterson's image seems to have been erased.<br/>
<br/>
Anxiously, you slip the mask on to Alyssa and wait for it to re-appear, so far you have produced the results that the  <i>Librae's</i> hint would happen. You take out a mind strip and lay it on Alyssa's forehead. Caleb had generously given some of them to you and Keith. You swipe the mind strip off Alyssa and finally lay the golemized mask of Alyssa on top the original's face.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, with fingers trembling from excitement you slip back under the 'chameleon' mask.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112121111111
author_id: maximawz
title: Continue
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>''Oh my gosh'', a sudden muffled gasp causes you to turn around and look at the source of the sound. <br/>
<br/>
Although you aren't startled, the voice is enough to ground you back to earth from your discovery. You had spent the last few minutes taking the new spell out for a spin while waiting for Alyssa to come around. A few minutes too many perhaps, as you see Alyssa already up. She stands in one of the corner of the basement by the dilapidated desks and benches, hands covering her mouth. Her eyes however, shouted her bewilderment and sheer disbelief.<br/>
<br/>
''You--, Alyssa stammers, not something she often do, your borrowed mind tells you. You quickly shush her by placing your index finger on your lips. <br/>
<br/>
Moving your hand in the prescribed manner by the Book which you're now getting very used to, you immediately feel your body shifting back to the form of Steve Patterson. ''You have to do what I say don't you?'', you say softly, as you feel the tension around your chest eases up with every stride you take towards her.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa takes a look at you, almost as if in defiance, but her slow nod confirms the golem's total obedience to its master. <br/>
<br/>
''Good,'' you break into a wide grin. Watching the confident girl wilts seems to satisfy you, although you don't really like the traces of hate and contempt in her eyes. <br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck it, I can work with that</i><br/>
<br/>
You spot a mattress that has seen better days. <i>The Fuck Room in Westside is a lot better</i> A thought fleets across your mind as you drag it to a particularly clear area in the basement. You make a mental note to find a place for you to score at Eastman once you're in. While Yves' place is comfortable, you don't want any unnecessary problems unless you are using her face to get more faces. The elementary school basement isn't a permanent place and it's a bit too far from your new place now at Patterson's.<br/>
<br/>
''Come,'' you beckon Alyssa nearer to you. Gently, you place a hand on her cheek and brushes her face and you could feel her shudders under your caress. ''You hate me, don't you Alyssa?'', you murmur to the girl, only to be responded back with a nod.<br/>
<br/>
''You hate me, because you want me all for yourself,'' you say, more of a command than a statement. Alyssa blinks twice as the golem tries to fit your command into her psyche. ''You want me,'' you say slowly, ''You want to fuck me. Hard. So that I don't look elsewhere.'' You let your fingers falls to her throat, and down to her chest where you feel her breasts heaving with every breath she takes. You remember what the Caleb infused Alyssa told you about Alyssa's plans to tame Patterson. It sounds laughable now to think about as you pull her top off, setting the heaving mounds free for your hands to touch directly. You purr a few more commands and only stop when you think you've smoothed out the important things with the golem. All the time your cock is straining from the sight and excitement. Alyssa is something new compared to the cheerleaders at Westside which some Patterson have had before and some which you've impersonated in the past.<br/>
<br/>
As time takes its course for your words to sink into the golem, you take off your shoes, before proceeding to free yourself from your shirt and your cock from your pants.<br/>
<br/>
''You kept me waiting for so long,'' Alyssa pulls you in for a lingering kiss as soon as the golem breaks free from its daze. You gnaw at her neck, and let your hands wander down to her buttocks. <br/>
<br/>
''Well, you don't have to anymore,'' you drop onto the mat and pat your thigh invitingly.<br/>
<br/>
Alyssa looks at you knowingly and kneels between your legs. Soon her tongue is lapping the underside of your shaft with your hands on her head and a smirk on your face. Her blowjob is as good as you and Patterson have imagined, the thought of having the high and mighty Alyssa coaxing the cum from your shaft, head bobbing up and down, makes it a lot better. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''You love me. You want to help me'', you turn sideways to face Alyssa and tilt her chin up so that she can look at you. The two of you have been cuddling on the mat after you finish inside her twice.<br/>
<br/>
''Yes. I do.'' there's no trace of contempt in her eyes or even the usual imperious attitude that she always uses to daunts troublemakers like you. <br/>
<br/>
''But I want you to act normal when we're in public,'' you add quickly. ''Your normal Alyssa self,'' Your gaze travels down her body and you enjoy the sight before you. ''Go and get your stuffs, we're going to see that Yves girl,'' Alyssa has been eager to keep Patterson for herself. <i>Smart</i> you thought. That way she keeps you away from other girls and cement her place further at the highest echelon at Eastman while not giving Patterson anything, except for a brief tease when it suits her. You wonder if she has done this before. <br/>
<br/>
You admire the strong thighs and shapely hips as Alyssa walks away to gather her clothes. The only thing that will make the whole experience better is that if she was the real girl, instead of a golem. You grab Alyssa from behind and pull her into a kiss and let your hands wander on her breasts before trailing down to her finely sculpted stomach. <br/>
<br/>
It doesn't really matter though for now. You break the embrace and get yourself ready for the next girl.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
''Polish these by tomorrow morning,'' you hand an unpolished mask each to Alyssa and Chris Yves. Both are now golems under your command and you've added Chris Yves' <i>imago</i> and mind band inside your chameleon masks as well. You manage to get enough ingredients and time whilst waiting for Alyssa and you turn them into good use, giving you two grey unpolished masks which you are now handing to Alyssa and Chris Yves for the grunt work.<br/>
<br/>
''Do you know anyone with a connection to Westside and Keyserling?'', you ask the girls. <br/>
<br/>
''Yumi Saito has a cousin here,'' Alyssa muses, ''Two in fact, Dana and Sarah Pak.'' <br/>
<br/>
You mull over the names, but Patterson's mind turns up a blank on both names, so you slide your hand across your brow and feel your form changes into that of Alyssa Randall. A brief search into her mind reveals that the former is a senior and the latter a freshman at Eastman. Alyssa only knows them since they are cousin to Yumi Saito and by that, a source of information. <br/>
<br/>
''They could work,'' you mutter. You've been looking for a place to put Keith and Caleb's <i>anima</i> bands. Your gaze travels to Chris Yves and immediately, your borrowed mind drags out information that Alyssa knows about her.<br/>
<br/>
You are interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. ''That must be the band,'' Yves says quietly, relief evident in her voice. Then a second one. <br/>
<br/>
You switch your form back to that of Steve Patterson, ''If you think that - , you're interrupted by another ringing, ''I won't fuck you straight just because your friends are here, you're wrong,'' a smirk breaks on your face, much to Yves' horror. You don't intend to, at least not now, but if the golem thinks that she can outsmart you, she's deluded. ''I can make you want this so bad,'' you point to your crotch. <br/>
<br/>
The golem shakes her head. <br/>
<br/>
''Don't worry, I won't,'' you grab her shoulders, ''Don't tell anyone about this.'' <br/>
<br/>
The golem nods her comprehension. <br/>
<br/>
''Good!,'' you pat her on the back, ''Let's go Alyssa. Oh, don't forget to polish those masks.''<br/>
<br/>
On the way out you see some of the band members. <i>Losers</i> that's the only thought fleeting across your Patterson mind.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">***</div><br/>
<br/>
You contemplate the fact that you don't start school until the coming Monday, at least technically while the paper works are all sorted, as you lay on your bed staring at the ceiling. But no school is going to turn down a student from going there. It might be worth it to scope the school before you are inundated by school work and classes. You chortle, you're going to make your golems do them for you anyway. <br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, it might be best to visit Westside and see how Keith is doing. Sure you aren't exactly welcomed anymore there, but you can still use the opportunity to grab more pretty faces for your new masks. </span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121212
author_id: seuzz
title: Last Days at Westside
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You just keep Alyssa's place warm for me," you say. "She's worth taking, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
She gets a sly look. "I'm not sure how to answer that. I kind of like her."<br/>
<br/>
"So, is it my imagination, or does she have a thing for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not the way you're hoping," she giggles. "Scuttlebutt says Steve Patterson need taming." She draws a finger down your chest. "And she thinks she's just the one to tame him."<br/>
<br/>
"Not likely. Is there a fuck room at Westside? You know, where guys like me can score on campus?"<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face, then catches herself. "That's Alyssa talking," she mutters. "Yeah, kind of, but it's for losers. Just a janitor's closet where guys can sneak in for a quick blow job."<br/>
<br/>
You grunt. "We'll have to fix that after I've got a full crew in place. Who would you recommend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll think through the possibilities," she says. "Come on, we should go back before anyone comes looking for us." As she passes, you cup her buttocks with an appreciative hand.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the party is kind of boring, but it passes well enough. It ends with you and Ian and Alyssa alone back in the bedroom, where you raise a trio of glasses. "Here's to new situations," you say, and settle a glinting eye on Ian. "We're gonna make great partners." Alyssa laughs, which elicits a puzzled glance from Ian. Well, let him wonder what you mean ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"There you are!" Keith glares at you sourly as you saunter into Blackwell's library on Sunday afternoon. "Fuck, man, you gotta help me with Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, we're not speaking." You hook the leg of a chair with your foot and pull it out before dropping into it heavily. You lean back with your hands clasped behind your head. "Get him yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"He won't hang out with me. He totally ignored me at the party last night. You know what he's like. It's just the two of you in your own private club."<br/>
<br/>
"And Lynch." You snort: Lynch is a loser, and it baffles you that Gordon has the time of day for him. "Use one of those <i>anima</i> bands to capture him. Or, I dunno, use it on Kendra like you were talking about, and use her to get to Chelsea. You've got options."<br/>
<br/>
Keith starts to argue again, but Caleb interrupts him. "We have other business we have to discuss." He sits down heavily and folds his hands. "We had visitors at the villa last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you all done up like that fat old fucker," Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"To preserve the illusion that the owner is still in residence," Caleb patiently replies. "To better preserve the illusion, I should have you strapping young men doing some yard work for me, but I know it would be pointless to ask."<br/>
<br/>
"Who were these visitors?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I wish I knew. It was last night, before I retired. The <i>gwacharweid</i> caught trespassers outside. I heard shouts. They must have excited the beast, for it became quite violent. This morning I found that several outside windows had been destroyed."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." You glance over at the vampire cyclops-monkey, grinning in its alcove. You shift uneasily. "That thing is trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't sleep well in this house, but I do sleep better for knowing it is watching over things," Caleb replies. "But a move might behoove us. I have already recruited a student to help me scout out alternative abodes."<br/>
<br/>
"Speak English, can't you," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wait for the young lady in question to explain things. She will be along shortly."<br/>
<br/>
"A girl, huh?" Keith waggles his eyebrows. "Hot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Quite cool and damp, actually," Caleb replies. "You will be even less pleased when I tell you that it is <i>your</i> anima band sitting inside her.<br/>
<br/>
You talk a little more about plans--Caleb has three new masks made up, which the golems should have finished polishing by Tuesday--until the girl shows up. Her name is Melody Weiss, and true to Caleb's description, she is very plain and pinched in the face. She is rather sulky, too--the Keith-personality sitting inside her doesn't like its situation--and Keith himself watches her with evident distaste. Caleb has asked her to scout out possible faculty acquisitions, and she rattles off a list, but none of the names mean anything to you. <br/>
<br/>
"If you're not going to use that blank mask you're hoarding," you say to Caleb when a moment offers itself, "how about letting me have it? I got a use for it."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't I have it?" Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
You start to argue with him, and your voices rise as you try to shout over each other, until Caleb raises a hand. "The smart thing would be for me to keep it, to keep you two from fighting over it. But I'll give it to you, Will." You smirk as Keith frowns fiercely. "In the meantime," he continues as he hands the three new blank masks to Keith, "you can take these to school and give them to the golems. When they're done, you can take one and I'll take two."<br/>
<br/>
"But why does Will get that one of yours now?" Keith insists.<br/>
<br/>
"Because I assume he's trying to get into Eastman, and he needs a mask for that," Caleb says. "And since you're still at Westside, you'll be getting the new blanks from the golems as soon as they're done."<br/>
<br/>
Keith still grumbles, and is in such a bad mood that he grabs up the new batch of masks and exits early. "Guy's stepping on my last nerve," you say after he's gone.<br/>
<br/>
"Have you used his <i>anima</i> band on anyone?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm going to try not to. I've got your band on someone, though."<br/>
<br/>
"May I ask who?"<br/>
<br/>
"An Eastman cheerleader. Hot. And black."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmm. Transgressive." He smiles faintly. "Still, however much Keith annoys you, we should all try to remain friendly. After all, he has our placeholders in his care."<br/>
<br/>
You don't ask what that means, and it's not until you after you've left that the insinuated meaning sinks in: The golems of Will Prescott, Caleb Johansson, and Keith Tilley are at Westside with him, and the golem of yourself is actually under his control. He has already complained about not having enough masks. If he wanted to get rid of your placeholders, he could.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Still, the problem is only theoretical, and you doubt Keith will actually do anything so stupid as to arrange for "accidents" to befall the fake Will Prescott, Caleb Johansson, and Keith Tilley. And right now you've got a blank mask burning a hole in your pocket.<br/>
<br/>
After toying with the idea of using it on Ian, you decide to use it on Alyssa instead, calling her up and arranging a meeting; and for old times' sake you choose the Westside fuck room as the rendezvous point. To your dismay, though, you find the door unlocked when you arrive. Gordon glares up at you as you enter, and Lynch grins smugly. "You've got your fucking nerve," Gordon growls.<br/>
<br/>
"I still have a week here," you retort. "We should try to get along."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not coming to practice anymore," he declares. "And give back your key to this place." His eye falls upon Alyssa, who has peeked around the corner into the room. "Jesus."<br/>
<br/>
"Give us a moment alone, will you, Lynch?" you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I wanna watch," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll wait down in the gym," Alyssa says. "It'll be lonely," she adds, and you note that she's giving Lynch a come-hither look. <i>Good girl,</i> you think. After she ducks out, Lynch glances between you and the door, and then springs to his feet and follows her out.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Gordon," you shrug after he's gone. "You don't want me at practice, I get it. That's fine. I'll just head over to Eastman after classes, practice with them." He curses. "I guess we're gonna be rivals now, but it doesn't have to be ugly."<br/>
<br/>
"It can be as ugly as you want it to be, you fucker."<br/>
<br/>
You unsling the workout bag from your shoulder, dropping it to the floor. He leaps to his feet--apparently either expecting or wanting a fight--and you raise your palms. "No, it'll be as ugly as <i>you</i> want it. We'll be at separate schools, but we don't have to be on different <i>teams.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
That catches his attention. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I can give a hundred percent when playing against other schools. Against Westside? Maybe less?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares. "That's the most fucked up thing I've ever heard."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to make it easy." You suddenly feel very weary of his company. Even though you plan on completing your move into Eastman this evening, through Alyssa--and even though you know that Gordon will not be himself much longer--you spitefully feel the desire to take Gordon out yourself. Now.<br/>
<br/>
You can get another mask pretty soon. It might also stand you in good stead with Keith if you used this opportunity to snag Gordon for him.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211212122
author_id: seuzz
title: First Days at Eastman
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Okay, whatever. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe not." You watch him carefully for any belligerent moves as you turn to leave the room, but he doesn't do anything. "Come on, let's go," you tell Alyssa when you're back down on the gym floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Where we goin'?" Lynch grins, but you ignore him. Alyssa gives him a flirtatious smile, but follows you out. <br/>
<br/>
"Fucker's causing me all kinds of trouble," you fume as you walk back out to the car. "So we'll have to do it at the old clubhouse." Of course, you don't have a key to it any more, so you call the Prescott golem. "Yo, I need the key to the school basement," you say as soon as you answer.<br/>
<br/>
"Something wrong with the fuck room?" he asks insolently.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's full of big, swinging dicks. I'll be over at your place in a few minutes."<br/>
<br/>
"I'll just meet you out there," he replies, and hangs up before you can argue.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's waiting out front when you arrive, and cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at Alyssa. "So, is she--?" he starts to ask.<br/>
<br/>
"She's none of your business," you say.<br/>
<br/>
But Alyssa grins impishly at him. "Ooh, you're kind of cute," she says. His eyes widen, then fall.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't tease him," you rebuke her, and she laughs. "Toss the keys over here. Then fuck off."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't I get to watch?" he asks as he fishes the key ring from his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
"You like to play it dangerous. I should bend you backwards and tie your feet around your neck."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't be mean to him," Alyssa says. "If he wants to watch, let him."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get used to her being nice to you," you grumble at him as you unlock the door. Maybe it's the residual effects of the hex you put on Patterson, or maybe you're just embarrassed to be looking at your old form, but you find yourself disliking the golem's company.<br/>
<br/>
The others follow you down the stairs, and Alyssa perches on a table, swinging her feet. You take the blank mask from your kit and ask her to get undressed. You've already got the inner surface of Steve's mask golemized, so the change-over should be quick.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have to take that <i>anime</i> band off her before you copy her?" the golem asks. <br/>
<br/>
"Technically, I don't think it makes a difference, but yeah, I'll take it off her first." You carefully avoid his eyes as you rip the band off Alyssa's forehead, and smoothly slide the mask onto her. She drops back, unconscious. "Now tell me, Tilley," you say as you turn a cold gaze upon him. "Why were you so keen to watch?"<br/>
<br/>
He stares. "What did you call me?" he croaks uneasily.<br/>
<br/>
"I called you by your real name. How come you're wearing my mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you think--?"<br/>
<br/>
"The golem wouldn't know anything about the <i>anima</i> bands, and <i>I'd</i> know enough not to call them 'anime' bands. You and that Pokemon shit."<br/>
<br/>
He wobbles on his feet, and stares at the floor. "Yeah, okay, you got me." He shrugs. "Just trying to figure out the way you think."<br/>
<br/>
"You know I'm really pissed at you, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I thought that was the reason I was supposed to keep your golem," he shoots back. "The way Caleb explained it, it's like a check and balance thing."<br/>
<br/>
He's got a point, but you're not willing to grant it explicitly. "You've been getting up my nose ever since I switched with Patterson."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you've been acting like a dick ever since you switched."<br/>
<br/>
"We gave you Westside, so if you can't handle Gordon--!"<br/>
<br/>
"We're supposed to be helping each other, but--!"<br/>
<br/>
You grab him by the belt buckle and hoist him into the air, pinning him against a bookshelf. "Look, if you want Patterson's help after I'm over in Eastman, I'll order him to help you. But I'm trying to get <i>out</i> of Westside, and if you won't help <i>me</i> out, why should I help you?" He glowers. "And I've <i>been</i> helping you. I got you Cindy, and Caleb and me got you Seth. So it seems to me you've been really ungrateful."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes fall, and he squirms a little. "Yeah, okay. As long as you tell Patterson to help me--" he says in a surly tone.<br/>
<br/>
"And you're <i>still</i> doing it," you sigh, and drop him. "Now, you wanna give me and Alyssa some privacy while I finish making the switch?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs in an ill-favored manner, and leaves. You watch through the windows of the basement until he's gone. When you turn back to the table, you see that the mask has reappeared on Alyssa's face. You sweep it off and quickly complete the change-over. A few minutes later, the new Steve Patterson is getting dressed--and distending the front of his shorts with a rising erection--as you admire your new, naked form in the basement's mirror. <br/>
<br/>
Alyssa Randal isn't skinny, but she is sculpted from muscle, not fat. Wide hips on strong thighs; a firm stomach that even shows traces of abdominal muscles; strong arms and shoulders. Her complexion is dark--much darker than Kendra Saunders--and her smile isn't wide and gleaming. But she has a strong, imperious air. You tilt your chin at your reflection; yes, that's the look that daunts troublemakers. You turn it on Patterson. "Get dressed," you tell him brusquely. "Help Keith--or Seth or Caleb or Prescott, whoever he's looking like--with his switches." Patterson snorts and spits into a corner, but nods.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You are relaxed and cheerful the next morning  as you drive to school with Alyssa's favorite light pop playing on the car radio. It's a kind of music you normally despise, but Alyssa is so sexy and popular and cool and confident that you love everything about her, including her taste in music. "Oh, girl, aren't <i>you</i> looking sexy this morning!" you call out cheerfully to Jenny Taylor, the girls' soccer captain. She's dressed out for morning practice--sports bra and top tightly binding her prodigious chest; shorts hugging her strong hips and thighs--and she turns a weary eye on you. <br/>
<br/>
"I only got three hours sleep last night," she says, and pulls back on her long blonde hair and binds it with a bit of elastic. "Minnow was sick, and mom is visiting my aunt, so I had to help Dad with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Isn't this, like, the third time this year?" you frown. Jenny just shakes her head, and talks with you about her little sister as the two of you walk toward the gym.<br/>
<br/>
It's the first of a long series of morale-boosting conversations. What a contrast with Chelsea, you marvel from deep inside Alyssa. Besides Jenny, there's Rhianna Miller, another African-American cheerleader, who has had another argument with her insane mother; Hannah Chamberlain, the girls' basketball captain, whose on-and-off romance with Jordan Reynolds is in the "off" state; Jordan himself, who gets a hard talking to when he exasperatedly calls Hannah a "psycho" (even though he may be right); and Faye Griffin, whose romantic pursuit of Cooper Black is playing all sorts of havoc with the debate team that the two of them (and you) are part of. Between these sessions, you huddle with the girls who feed you gossip. Today's news brings fresh rumors about Kelly Trask, who is widely believed to be banging the Irish exchange student who is staying with her family. You drink it in eagerly, but in commentary play up how unfair it is--"Like it's anyone's business"--and though you don't give any orders, you don't have to. Your foot soldiers will soon be stamping out the rumors as a lot of hateful talk toward a sweet girl.<br/>
<br/>
So you're feeling pleased with yourself as you saunter into gym after last period to watch the boys' basketball team practice. You're not surprised to see that Patterson there; he tilts his head in your direction, and with some finger waggling you indicate you want to talk to him afterward. He's aggressive as he plays, and though he doesn't do any yelling, you can tell that Ian and several of the others are sorely tempted to yell at him. No one follows him after practice as he wearily trots over to where you're sitting. "How'm I doing?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay with the ball, but I think Ian's planning to kill you."<br/>
<br/>
"Prissy little bastard," he sneers. "Fuck, if Gordon and me were drilling these guys--"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, like fucking them up the ass,"  you interrupt mirthfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you, and that doubles as an invitation." He plants his hands on either side of your hips and leans in close. "I wanna go off some place real quiet with you and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Not till after we get thing set up, honey. Oh, did you and Keith get Gordon taken care of?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Didn't talk to the cocksucker once today." He straightens up and clasps his bicep, to peer down at an incipient zit. "Or if I did, he didn't tell me it was him."<br/>
<br/>
You frown. Tilley is being shifty. Maybe you should switch back into Patterson, but pretend to be the golem. That might let you keep an eye on Keith without his realizing that's what you're doing.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112121222
author_id: seuzz
title: Coach Class
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Whatever Keith is up to, it's probably not worth worrying about. "Go get cleaned up," you tell Steve. "Then we'll go talk to Coach White about scoring us a fuck room." He arches his eyebrows appreciatively and crab-walks backwards halfway across the gym floor to the showers, watching you lasciviously the entire way. You return the stare, so hard you don't notice your new company until she has sat down beside you.<br/>
<br/>
It's Lisa Rickover, one of the girls Alyssa uses to keep tabs on all the goings on in school. She's not a pretty thing, with her hard, hatchet face and even harder eyes, but she's smart and cunning and knows how to talk in a way that leaves most boys helpless and most girls furious. You don't trust her any farther than you can throw her, which is why you keep her very, very close.<br/>
<br/>
She's sitting very close to you now, and you start a little at her appearance. She is gazing at the doorway to the boys' changing room with a faint smile on her face, and you can guess she was watching you watch Patterson. Your guess is confirmed when she leans in close: "He's not good looking but he moves like an animal. Like a cross between a gorilla and a panther."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a sideways glance. "Never thought you were blind, girl, but I never heard you talk like <i>that.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
She smiles faintly. "Don't worry. I'm not trying to get between you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by that?"<br/>
<br/>
Her smile broadens. "Please. I saw the way he was leaning in on you a few minutes ago."<br/>
<br/>
"We made a connection."<br/>
<br/>
Her smile does another subtle metamorphosis. "That'll make it easy for you, then."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you getting at, Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at you with what looks like mock surprise. "Didn't you say he needed taming? If you two already have a ... 'connection' ... it'll be that much easier for you." You hold her eye, and she holds yours; but she's the first to withdraw. "And I've already been telling people you've put dibs on him, and competition isn't allowed. If people start competing for him, he'll eat us all alive."<br/>
<br/>
Something about what she is saying makes you very uneasy, but you can't put your finger on it. Lisa always gives the impression that she plays angles, and something about this conversation fairly screams 'ulterior motives.'<br/>
<br/>
You're saved--if that's the word--from having to figure out what Lisa is on about by the emergence of Ian from the changing room. Seeing you, he trots over. "So, how did we look?" he asks. His tone is easy and confident, but there is still an undertone of worry to it.<br/>
<br/>
"To me it looked great," you reply. "How was Steve?"<br/>
<br/>
His face tightens a little. "Patterson's good. He just needs to meld with the team."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sure you'll bring him around," you smile. Under breath you add, "Or vice versa. Does Coach White have anything to say?" you continue, more loudly.<br/>
<br/>
Ian's expression combines bemusement and disgust. "He watched for about five minutes and then went back in his office."<br/>
<br/>
"A little drinky-drinky never hurt anyone," Lisa laughs. Ian's lips briefly disappear, but he doesn't respond.<br/>
<br/>
"Is he still there?" you ask, getting up. "I need to talk to him anyway about some stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't say anything about Patterson to him," Ian says in a warning tone. "I don't want him taking an interest."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry, I'll leave you guys to work out your new relationship." With an easy stride you cross the gym floor to the door to Coach White's office. You knock, and at a grunt go in.<br/>
<br/>
Dale White is in his mid twenties, and he still has a college athlete's body: stocky and muscular, but trim. He won't keep it long if he keeps hitting the beer and harder booze, though. Right now, for instance, he is looking rather the worse for drink. Part of it is the disordered brush cut that has sent his short, wiry dark hair springing out in all directions. Part of it is the five-day growth of dark beard on his cheeks and chin and jawbone. Part of it is the way he slouches in his chair with a foot on his desk. Mostly, though, it's the red and bleary eyes. <i>So unattractive,</i> you think. <i>All the girls at Eastman would be drooling over this hunk if he'd only clean up a little.</i> But the little shrewd voice that helps guide Alyssa adds: <i>But maybe that's why he drinks. Because he's not supposed to touch girls like me, and it's driving him nuts.</i><br/>
<br/>
You just smile. "Do you have a moment, Coach White? I have a problem and I can't talk to Coach Reynolds about it."<br/>
<br/>
He grunts. "You having trouble with some of the boys?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not yet, and that's the problem." He draws back a little as you go around the desk to lean over him. "We want a place to get in a <i>lot</i> of trouble." From your commanding position, you've no problem putting the <i>anima</i> band on his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
He blinks and his foot falls heavily from the desk. He grunts again and shakes his head, then leans forward and rubs his temples. "What were--? Shit." He struggles for a moment, then put his face on his desk and covers his head with his arms. You watch him with mounting concern for a few moments. Then with a deep breath he raises his head and lets out a deep sigh. "Okay," he says, and swallows. "I think I know where I am. But God, I need a--" He reaches for his desk, then stops. "No, that's not the answer."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's me, Caleb," he sighs. "But you put me in Dale White, and I wish I could remember how many shots he's had. Four, I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you remember being in here?" You point to your chest.<br/>
<br/>
He looks up in puzzlement. "Here?" He points to your chest, then drops his finger to your crotch. "Or there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a scumbag." You peer at him. "But he is hot for me, isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not particularly," he shrugs. "I mean, you look fine, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"But what?"<br/>
<br/>
"What do you want with this guy that you put me here?" His tone is very irritable.<br/>
<br/>
"I want a private space, in the gym. You know, for a fuck room, like they have at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with the custodian's closet?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know about that? I mean, Coach White knows--"<br/>
<br/>
"Pff. <i>Yeah.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Is Coach White--? Never mind, I don't want to know."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you don't. But what's wrong with the custodian's closet?"<br/>
<br/>
"We want a VIP room."<br/>
<br/>
"Ooooh!" He leans back and rubs his cheek. He's still rubbing it when there's a knock on the door. After a brief glance at you, he bids the visitor enter. It's Patterson, all cleaned up, and White gives you a worried, querying glance.<br/>
<br/>
"You can say anything you want in front of Steve," you say. "He's on the team. Don't you remember?"<br/>
<br/>
"Remember what?" He is still sounding irritable.<br/>
<br/>
"I put you--that <i>anima</i> band--on Alyssa at the party Saturday night. You--it--was riding around on her for, like, 24 hours."<br/>
<br/>
"Last thing I remember is sitting in Blackwell's library while we were making the damn things."<br/>
<br/>
Interesting. You'll have to remember that <i>anima</i> bands don't retain memories of their use. "What about a fuck room?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's the store room behind the bleachers. That's the only thing around the gym I can offer." He fishes some keys from his desk and leads you out into the gym. Between the wall and the end of the bleachers on one side there is a narrow pathway leading to a far wall, in which is a door. He unlocks it and ushers you and Steve in. It's long and narrow and windowless and dark, and when he switches on the light you see it's neatly packed with lots and lots of extra equipment. Only a narrow aisle running up the middle is clear and useful.<br/>
<br/>
Steve grimaces. "The fuck room at Westside is up in the attic, and it's got windows."<br/>
<br/>
"This isn't Westside, you dick," White growls. "It's this or the boiler room under the boys' showers." He watches as you and Steve exchange unhappy glances, then tosses the key ring to you. "Try it out. I'll be in my office."<br/>
<br/>
After he's gone, Steve looks at you speculatively. You're not much more turned on by the room than he is, but you glance around, trying to find the potential. "If you put a lot of candles in here, turned out the lights, it might be kind of romantic."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want romance, I want a place to take girls and fuck them."<br/>
<br/>
"Seduction would work better." You shake your head at Alyssa's idiotic belief that she could corral this beast. That reminds you of your conversation with Lisa. You're frowning over it when Steve surprises you with a hard kiss to the side of your neck and a soft pinch just under your left buttock.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121212221
author_id: rugal
title: Try out the store room
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So I see that the whole ordeal with Kelly has been taken care of," you state plainly to the assemblage of female gossips and snoops nicknamed, both derisively and admiringly, the Rumoratti by the rest of the student body the next morning. You decide it's best not to play the role of paranoid freak for now and give Keith the benefit of the doubt. Alyssa views the world in a much more structured and calculated manner so having her viewpoint has helped keep you cool in a situation that, in the past, may have caused you to act more rashly.<br/>
<br/>
"Well like you said yesterday, it's not like it's anyone's business," replies Maddie Caron in her usual "whatever" manner.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, all we really had to do was basically tell 'em that and they backed off," Tina Branson adds in her distinctive drawl, "Kelly's sweet and adorable so who cares if she's datin' Liam. He's a nice guy so we should be happy for 'em, ya know?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's also pretty cute," Natalie Dawkins jumps in, "Those steely blue eyes, that accent... he's totally got that cute introspective British dude thing going on."<br/>
<br/>
"Nat, dear, he's Irish," says Lisa Rickover in her cool and icy demeanor.<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft, same difference," Natalie replies rolling her eyes, "He's a hunk, that's what's important."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah yeah, Liam's a nice looking guy and Kelly's lucky to have him if that's what's going on," you butt in, "But we don't want people thinking Kelly's some slut hooking up with the cute foreign exchange student because she got the luck of the draw or something. Becky would jump all over that and we've done a good job of keeping her from the upper echelons socially," you continue referring to Becky Torres, the drop dead gorgeous cheerleader whose social standing lower than her looks wound indicate mainly due to a bitchy personality that's been kept in check by Alyssa's efforts. "I mean, can you even imagine what would happen if she was more popular?"<br/>
<br/>
"You mean, like, Westside?" asks Mandy Simpson finally entering the conversation... probably after daydreaming over Nick Drummond.<br/>
<br/>
"Westside?" asks Summer Nguyen, seemingly echoing Mandy but being a little more genuinely out of the loop.<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper, Summer," Lisa replies taking a sip of her Diet Coke, "Yes, that WOULD be bad..."<br/>
<br/>
You nod an affirmative, "Exactly," you state, "So good job on squashing the Kelly/Liam thing buuuut..." you let the draw out for a moment making sure you have everyone's attention, "Our work's never really done is it? There's always stuff going on so you all know what comes next: has anyone heard anything interesting?"<br/>
<br/>
There's silence and contemplation for a moment before Maddie speaks up, "Looks like the dog's already trying to get out of the yard," she says vaguely before continuing when you give her a look, "What I'm saying is that jacked up doofus you've been trying keep on his leash is trying to slip out of his collar."<br/>
<br/>
"What exactly are you trying to tell me, Maddie?" you ask giving her another queer look.<br/>
<br/>
Maddie gives a shrug but continues, "Just that you probably should talk with Rhianna and Kevin since Rhianna texts me yesterday evening saying, and I quote: 'Shit nearly went down between Patterson and Kevin. Tell Alyssa Patterson's an asshole.'"<br/>
<br/>
You give it a moment of thought. "Kevin" would be Kevin McIllroy, star player on the football team and Rhianna's boyfriend. Kevin's usually a laid back guy so for him to nearly get into something with Patterson, Patterson must have really gotten under his skin. You'll definitely have to talk with all three involved parties at some point in the day and Kevin will probably be your first chance. "One last thing." you say. You procure a set of keys from your purse and dangle them in the faces of your posse, "I got us a better place than the closet if you wanna have a little fun with a boy. Or girl. Whoever really." you grin. You think back to yesterday and how you left Steve a little high and dry with a quick handy and nothing else. You weren't in any hurry to actually sleep with him... neither was Alyssa as she was waiting for someone else: a guy named Geoff. You think that might have something to do with Patterson's behavior as he was a little annoyed by the time you two separated. "Just spread the word that the storage room in the gym's a go."<br/>
<br/>
Afterwards you congratulate everyone once again on the Kelly Trask situation before dismissing them.<br/>
<br/>
* * * * *<br/>
<br/>
Your chance to talk with Kevin comes during the 2nd period study hall class the two of you share together. Of course "Study hall" in this case basically means the teacher being absent doing other things knowing that trying to corral a bunch of teenagers into studying is a fruitless endeavor. You manage to get some alone time with Kevin about halfway through the period and waste no time in getting to the issue at hand. "What went down between you and Patterson yesterday?" you ask bluntly.<br/>
<br/>
"Patterson?" Kevin asks, his handsome dark features furrowing for a second before lighting up, "Oh shit, right. Yeah, so like... we get done with practice right? And this nigga comes over pretty much with his dick all hangin' out and starts tryin' to talk shit. Talkin' about 'Oh nice grab ass practice boys. Must've loved having a bunch of big, burly guys just slam you huh McIllroy?'" In spite of his generally laid back attitude Kevin's notorious for having one of the foulest mouths in Eastman... or maybe it's BECAUSE of his laid back demeanor and the fact he (as he often would say) "gives no fucks" that the words just slip out. "So I'm like what fuck is this motherfucker's problem right? Like I know he's never seen a real football team so maybe he's jealous that he'll have some competition for top or somethin'."<br/>
<br/>
"You said that to him?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Kevin shakes his head. "Naw man. Well like I did but I was, ya know, jokin'. Patterson's one smug motherfucker man but I wasn't gonna let his shit get to me... then he made a pass at Rhianna."<br/>
<br/>
You look a bit surprised by this but say nothing, only motion for Kevin to continue. "Rhianna was watchin' and he just starts talkin' shit like 'blah blah blah real man' and all that. Actin' like he's some big-dicked motherfucker and maybe Rhianna should go home with him. He's gettin' all touchy-feely with her, runnin' his fingers down her cheek and shit and she's not wantin' any part of this so that's when I put him on blast, right? Tell him that he might've thought he was hot shit over at Westside but this ain't Westside and he ain't shit here so don't go walkin' around with a chip on his shoulder otherwise someone's gonna knock it off."<br/>
<br/>
"And what happened afterwards?" you ask, feeling more than a little irritated yourself; how much of that is you and how much of that is Alyssa you're not sure.<br/>
<br/>
"He just goes like 'Oh hey man, calm down. We're cool, right?' and slinks off like the pussy-ass motherfucker he is."<br/>
<br/>
* * * * *<br/>
<br/>
You never get the chance to talk to Rhianna since it turns out she stayed home, not wanting to deal with Patterson's harassment you guess. Rhianna's at home as the center of attention but is also a bit of a sensitive sort and can react pretty harshly to the wrong kind of attention. A talk with Patterson closer to the end of the day proves fruitless as well. You basically take him somewhere private so you could yell at him, telling him to act a little more natural but not like some neanderthal; he responds by saying you left him wanting a little "dark chocolate". When you ask him about Gordon and Keith he once again tells you that while he hung out with Gordon, Seth and Lynch after the Kevin incident, Chelsea clung to Gordon the entire time and he couldn't separate them. Likewise, apparently Keith has been pretty elusive and Patterson hasn't had any luck figuring out where Keith's holed up for now.<br/>
<br/>
But it sets off a spark in your mind. Patterson should've acted like you told him and not like a complete scumbag like he did towards Kevin and Rhianna. Likewise after two days he should've found Keith. Keith was upset but he was never this much of a jerk and would've revealed himself already to continue the next step unless...<br/>
<br/>
Fuck! It's a paranoid thought, you think, but who's to say Keith is still at Westside? You don't want to think of the idea that Keith's gone behind your back and snuck his way into Eastman to get back at you but, well, it's very much a real possibility... a possibility you're fairly sure of. But if he's in Eastman, then who is he? Patterson's out because of the golemization process of the mask. More likely he used the Cindy mask and connections she might have to Eastman, especially via the cheer squad, to get in if he did and from there...<br/>
<br/>
The Rumoratti... inside one of them he could've heard your concerns over Becky and from inside the group could build her up. Lisa's an obvious choice as the schemer and Alyssa's right hand but all of them have their points: Tina's a sweet southern gal and well-liked, Maddie is lusted over for her beauty and chest, Mandy's unassuming due to being vacuous, Being mischievous is Natalie's forte and Summer's innocence would put people off guard.<br/>
<br/>
But even outside of that, there are many choices for Keith to spy from: anyone on the basketball team, Hannah Chamberlain, Kyle Lakewood, Jenny Taylor, Dana Pak (due to being Yumi Saito's cousin), Chris Yves, Adam Karter... even a freshman with influence like Carrie Carmichael (because who'd suspect a freshman, you think). If your belief is right, then Keith could be anywhere and anyone and you need to try and root him out.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121212222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Boiler Room and What You Found There
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Let's find someplace better than this," you say, pushing him back. "We'll check out that boiler room."<br/>
<br/>
"You're kidding, right?" he says as he follows you back out to the gym. <br/>
<br/>
"Let's just look at it. Go tell me if the changing room is clear."<br/>
<br/>
He trots into the boys' locker room, and a moment later reappears to wave you in. In the back, behind the lockers and the showers, is a plain wooden door. It takes you a few moments to find the key on the key ring, and when get it open you and Patterson can only stare: it's a small closet with an open manhole in the center of the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Patterson gasps. "It's a fucking sewer!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's an access hatch," you retort. "Come on." Daintily you take the ladder down; Patterson slides down it like a twin set of fire poles, landing heavily on the floor below. The only light comes from the dim hatch above, and you have to feel around until you brush up against a heavy light switch. A bare bulb in the ceiling flickers on.<br/>
<br/>
The room floor and walls are lined with grotty, green-hued tile, and one wall is dominated by great metallic cylinders with pipes leading in and out. You eyeball them curiously while Patterson just stares. On the other side of the room is another door. It hasn't a lock, and Steve watches skeptically as you open it. There's not much to see, even after you switch on the light, except a narrow corridor dominated on one side by a lot of horizontal pipes and on the other by some large lockers. You go down each one, briefly opening and closing the door, finding lots of tools and spare parts. <br/>
<br/>
"Well, this is a bust," you have to admit. "Though if we ever need a hiding place in a pinch--" You pause, waiting for the inevitable "Toldja" from the golem, but he says nothing. You turn to look. He's standing at the locker nearest the door, frowning down at something on its floor. You follow his gaze. There's a box down there, and as you draw near you see it isn't empty.<br/>
<br/>
It contains a mask.<br/>
<br/>
You blink and look again. There is no mistaking the shape or the sheen: It's a polished mask of the type that you and your friends have made. Gingerly you pick it up to examine it. "The fuck is that doing here?" Patterson mutters softly. You don't answer. The light is dim, but even in the quasi-dark you can see that the mask holds no image. You turn it over: It is unsealed, and there is no mind band contained within it. It is a blank mask, ready to use on--<br/>
<br/>
Well, on who? Who put it here, and why?<br/>
<br/>
You turn to the box. It's just a ratty cardboard thing with no markings on it. Digging inside it, you find it contains only one more item: a composition book. "Come on," you tell Patterson. "Let's look at these things someplace else."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You had to do your homework, and then you had to go out to eat with your family and your aunt's family--she and her husband were in town--and then you had to catch up (finally!) on the social sites. But now it is ten o'clock you and you have some time for yourself and your discoveries.<br/>
<br/>
There is nothing more to be found about the mask, which looks just like the ones you've made. The notebook, on the other hand ...<br/>
<br/>
It looks very old, and the paper is stiff and discolored. "Looks like my grandmother's handwriting," Steve had said when you'd glanced through it on emerging into the sunlight.<br/>
<br/>
"What would your grandmother be doing with stuff like this?" you'd asked.<br/>
<br/>
"Just sayin'," he'd replied. But you knew what he meant. It looked like your grandmother's handwriting, too. All old ladies write like that: a neat but spidery script. It was rather shocking to see a script made for writing recipes and thank-you notes employed on ... <i>this</i> kind of stuff.<br/>
<br/>
The first page in the notebook shows a sketch of a mask, and as though to underline the point the heading says "Mask." "Press to face. Assumes image. Must be sealed," are written below the sketch. At the bottom are the words "Mask off" and a colon, but whatever had been written after the colon has been obliterated by a nasty looking scorch mark.<br/>
<br/>
The next page is headlined "Sealant for mask" and shows some roughly sketched out sigils that you recognize as being part of the spell that makes the sealing compound. The third page says "Mind" and contains a few more partial sigils. You puzzle over them for a few minutes, and then realize that they spell out a mnemonic device--like a rebus--that could be used to help recall the full sigil that makes mind strips. (But only someone who knew the sigil would recognize them or could interpret them.) The fourth page showed another few sigils, but you don't examine them closely, for you see where this is going. <br/>
<br/>
It's a notebook recording, in very partial form, the contents of the <i>Libra.</i> You flip rapidly through pages sketching golems and golemized masks, and stop only after coming to the page that cryptically describes the use of an <i>anima</i> band. You'd agreed not to open any spells outside the presence of your friends ...<br/>
<br/>
Fuck it, you were talking about the <i>Libra.</i> After licking your lips, you turn the page in the notebook.<br/>
<br/>
"Chameleon," the headline says. "Many faces, one mask," it says beneath that. You let out a low whistle. That could be very useful. You've been neglecting to advance in the book. Maybe tomorrow you should visit Blackwell's again.<br/>
<br/>
The next page says "Permanent Bond" and shows something like a spike. "Nails item in place," it says. "Only maker can remove." <i>Nails what in place? Onto what?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Erasing masks, etc." says the next page. "Needs a blank inside the sigil." There are a few sigils here--more mnemonic devices?--but without an examination of the original, they mean nothing to you.<br/>
<br/>
"Copying masks, etc." and more sigils. "Erasing a mind." "A new golem spell." "Voodoo doll." "Doppelgangers." The pages are almost entirely blank except for these notations. <br/>
<br/>
And then a page that shows a spiral. "Don't fall! Ha ha!" it says at the bottom. <br/>
<br/>
The script on the subsequent pages is much more chaotic, as though the writer couldn't quite control his or her hand muscles. The headings are utterly baffling as well: "Change a mask." "Change a mind." "Make them all different." But though the script is hard to decipher, the sigil fragments remain firm and clear and show more detail. One of them, even, you think you recognize as a complete spell--though one that would only be a subsidiary portion of a larger spell.<br/>
<br/>
"Make them dance!" The scrawl is huge and almost indecipherable, but the sigils are very clear, and copious in number. "Make them dance!" At least you think the next page repeats the message of its predecessor, but it is very hard to tell. Again, many, many sigils, all very clear. "Make them dance!" Only a close study of the inky loops, and a certain familiarity of overall shape, lets you decipher the page after that. More sigils.<br/>
<br/>
By now you are trembling. The person who kept this notebook seems to have been going mad at the end. Is that the fate that awaits you? You turn the page.<br/>
<br/>
It is a solid mass of sigils, laid out in block-like rows, as though type-set. There is something obsessive about their neatness. They are so regular, so perfectly formed, so meticulous and exacting ... It must have taken days or weeks of unremitting, painstaking labor to make them, and to make them all look like that.<br/>
<br/>
You turn the page--<br/>
<br/>
And shriek--<br/>
<br/>
And fling the notebook against the wall.<br/>
<br/>
Gasping, you shut your eyes and draw your knees up under your chin. To your horror you hear footsteps outside your door. Is it coming for you?<br/>
<br/>
You flinch at the soft knock. "Honey, are you okay?" comes your mother's concerned voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Yeah," you say, your voice weak with relief. "I just-- An email. It got me excited."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." And instantly her tone turns from concern to sourness. "Well, it sounded--" She doesn't finish, and a second later you hear her retreating footsteps.<br/>
<br/>
You don't dare look at it again, but the fascination is too much. Carefully you reach for the notebook, and while holding it at arm's length you flip to the end. From the corner of your eye you peep at it ...<br/>
<br/>
But it's just a hand, a crude drawing of a human hand. Why in the world did you think it was reaching out from the page to grab--<br/>
<br/>
To grab what? <br/>
<br/>
Fearfully, you close the notebook and hide it in the desk. You get ready for bed. But you don't put out the lights, and you don't sleep.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211211212122221
author_id: seuzz
title: Old Notes and New Spells
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It almost certainly belonged to the previous owner of the <i>Libra,</i>" says Blackwell as he leafs carefully through the notebook. "Or should I say, the person previous to the previous owner of the <i>Libra.</i> As I was, technically, the previous own--"<br/>
<br/>
"I get it. Jesus," you exclaim. "But how did it wind up at Eastman High School?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've no idea." He lays the notebook down on the table with a smug smile. <br/>
<br/>
It is Tuesday afternoon. You--still in the body of Alyssa Randal--are sitting in Blackwell's dining room. Caleb--for once, thankfully, unencumbered by Blackwell's form--sits at your right. And across the table is Gordon Black, leaning back and listening with a truculent expression on his face. <i>So Keith got a hold of him without Steve's help. Good.</i><br/>
<br/>
Caleb picks up the notebook and flips through it. "What do you know about this person?"<br/>
<br/>
"Very little," Blackwell replies. "Her name was ... Drennon, if I recall correctly. She was in her eighties, and she lived in upstate New York."<br/>
<br/>
"And you stole her stuff after she died," you say.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's mouth curls into a sour smile. "I redirected some of her effects. You gentlemen would not now be enjoying the <i>Libra</i> and its gifts had I not."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't say it was a bad thing," you retort. "I'm just saying you stole it. How did you do that, again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I redirected a box containing certain of her effects to Salopak Engineering. Once I knew it had arrived, I ... made my way inside and retrieved certain items from the package."<br/>
<br/>
"The <i>Libra</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. One or two trinkets. It was a large box well packed with many items, and I didn't have much time. Once I had the book, I retreated."<br/>
<br/>
"So someone at Salopak rifles through the box--probably after they found it open--and takes out a mask and this notebook," Caleb continues slowly. "And they take them to Eastman and hide them there. But who would do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know a dude who works at Salopak," Gordon rumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" You and Caleb simultaneously.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon's lips disappear. "I don't remember," he says. "I just remember hearing that name, and some guy saying 'Yeah, I work there'." He flushes slightly.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb shrugs. "Makes sense, I guess. <i>I</i> wanted to get a job there."<br/>
<br/>
"You still want it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you." He does a double take after saying it. "Yeah," he says more slowly. "Fuck you. Nice and slow and hot and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck <i>you</i>. With a broom handle."<br/>
<br/>
"Will that be all, gentlemen?" Blackwell asks, and you let him retreat back into the library, where Caleb has it polishing a new mask.<br/>
<br/>
That reminds you-- "You have some more masks for us?" you ask Tilley.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh?" you mimic. "Masks. You got the most recent batch from our doubles, right? You must have, since you got Gordon there."<br/>
<br/>
"Just Gordon," he mumbles. "The others aren't ready yet."<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb exchange exasperated glances. "Well, when they're ready, bring them out here," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"You finally got some prospects?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, a fraternity brother, or something. Lives in a big house with a bunch of rich fucks. I'll use him to get a sorority girl."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were talking about getting another professor."<br/>
<br/>
"I am. And as soon as Tilley gets me a mask, I'll be inviting him over to dinner."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," Gordon grumbles. "I'll try to make 'em work faster."<br/>
<br/>
"The faster you can get 'em to work, the sooner you'll get Chelsea." <br/>
<br/>
That settled, you pluck the notebook from Caleb's fingers and flip through it idly. "We should probably find out who this stuff belongs to."<br/>
<br/>
"It belongs to us," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean who took it from Salopak," you snap back. "If someone out there isn't who they appear to be--"<br/>
<br/>
"You think isn't the only stuff they made off with?" Caleb asks skeptically. "How could they know how to use it if they didn't have the <i>Libra</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know what else they got," you point out. "And it's weird that they hid it where they did. Like, they didn't just casually get rid of it. It seems like they wanted to keep it safe someplace."<br/>
<br/>
"So why not keep it at their house?" Caleb asks, still sounding unimpressed.<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on how much privacy they've got." You tug at your ear. "Well, in the meantime, I guess we could spend the afternoon deciphering the next spell. Unless Tilley has someplace he has to be?" you add with a trace of hope in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I got no place to go," he grumbles. "You look like you've got a busy social life, though."<br/>
<br/>
"I told my friends I had a date," you sniff. Actually, Patterson is probably at his house.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Even though the Drennon notebook refers to the next spell ("Chameleon") as a single spell, it proves to be three small spells that piece together. The first makes up a kind of sealant, which you test out by applying to the interior of the Aubrey Blackwell mask. This new layer leaves the mask looking blank; even the mind band it contains has been effaced. The next spell simply requires that you imprint a new image into the altered mask; as Caleb has been pretending to be Blackwell, you use his image. Finally, a third spell shows how to operate the new mask. By folding your fingers in a complex way and waving them across your brow, you can shift between the images.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's convenient not having to take the mask on and off," Caleb says. He fumbles desperately at his forehead, trying to shift back into his form from Blackwell's before his shirt tears asunder. "But I'd still have to change clothes." He finally succeeds in restoring himself.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that little trick could be really useful," Gordon says, his eyes gleaming.<br/>
<br/>
"Well here, put some inside Gordon's mask." You push the pot of the new sealant toward him.<br/>
<br/>
But he flinches from it. "Not right now," he says. "Maybe later." Then with a quick motion he snatches it up. "Yeah, later. No one here worth copying. Except that girl you're pretending to be, Prescott. Can this stuff copy what's inside a mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so." You pore over the sigils for a few moments. "No, it looks like it just copies bodies."<br/>
<br/>
"Does it copy minds?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so." Again you look through the sigils, but wind up making an experiment of it: You exchange Alyssa's mask for the Blackwell/Caleb hybrid. "Nope," you report after switching over into Caleb's form. You study your hands. "Got the body, which ain't much to boast of. But the brain?" <br/>
<br/>
"Which is my main selling point," Caleb grins<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the boast. "We'll just have to remember to put mind bands into each layer." <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's nearly eight o'clock by this point, so you change back into Alyssa, and you and your friends part for the night. Each of you takes a small pot of the new sealant along with an extra mind band. You also take the blank mask that you'd found at Eastman. You'd offered to give it to Caleb in exchange for one of the two masks he is set to procure in a day or two, but he'd waved the offer away as unnecessary.<br/>
<br/>
As you drive back home, you check all the texts you'd been ignoring on your phone. Most are short and uninteresting, but you nearly run a red light at one from Mandy: "Lawrence is taking bets on how soon before Patterson cheats on you."<br/>
<br/>
<i>The hell?</i> You're not even officially going together. You're not even sure you <i>want</i> to put Patterson and Alyssa together: you'd been planning to let Patterson roam free, so you could bag girls when you felt like it. You'd only gone along with Alyssa's plan to corral and tame him because that's the impression she'd been giving.<br/>
<br/>
But now you find yourself drumming your fingers on the steering wheel. Alyssa has an enormous amount of prestige, and it would <i>not</i> be good for her to be seen at failing so publicly and spectacularly at a self-set goal. But it's <i>not</i> a self-set goal, so why the fuck is Lawrence Farmer, who is Alyssa's chief rival as a purveyor of gossip and influence, so set on--<br/>
<br/>
<i>Lisa.</i> Your lips draw back as you hiss the name to yourself. She said she would clear the way for you by telling everyone that Patterson was off-limits. You knew there was something sneaky about what she was saying. Now you see it: What better way to set you up for a very public failure while pretending that she was actually trying to help you succeed?<br/>
<br/>
Almost involuntarily, your hand darts out to caress the blank mask and the jar of chameleon sealant in the passenger seat. You can certainly fix <i>her</i> wagon if you want to.<br/>
<br/>
But the spasm of anger quickly recedes, even if it doesn't completely disappear. <i>Focus, Will,</i> you tell yourself. You're not really Alyssa Randal. Does it matter so much if she suffers this kind of setback, especially since you can repair it any time you wish? You need to concentrate on securing your various berths at Eastman. The first step there is getting Ian Carpenter, the basketball captain, onto your team.<br/>
<br/>
Beyond that, there is the small matter of the mystery box, and how it got to Eastman.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112112121222212
author_id: seuzz
title: Being Ian
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You can take care of Lisa whenever. Right now, you want to get a handle on the mysterious box you found at Eastman. And the more boots you have on the ground, the better your chances of getting answers quickly. So you pull into a nearby parking lot and dial up Ian. "Hey, handsome," you chirp. "Whatcha up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Having a conference," he says brusquely. <br/>
<br/>
"Ooh, sounds serious. I don't suppose there's any chance me and Steve Patterson could stop by tonight when you're done."<br/>
<br/>
There's a lengthy pause. "Actually, it's Patterson I'm <i>with</i>," he says. "We're having a friendly talk at McDonalds." There's a murmur from somewhere else into the phone.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh." This is a surprise. "What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
Another pause. "Well, you tell me. Didn't you just say you wanted him and you meet up with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I don't know what it's all about. I just thought it would be a good idea if the three of us got together tonight."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're welcome to join us, I guess. I think we could do with your input." You hear him mutter Alyssa's name, presumably to Patterson. "We're on Ninth Street."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we shift the meeting over to your house? It's kind of a sensitive topic."<br/>
<br/>
"So's this one. We're talking about Kevin."<br/>
<br/>
"Kevin? McIllroy? What about him?"<br/>
<br/>
Another pause. "Isn't that what <i>you</i> want to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Um ..."<br/>
<br/>
"How out of the loop are you, Alyssa? I dunno, maybe we <i>should</i> meet at my place."<br/>
<br/>
And so it is decided. You're feeling quite worried by the time you get out to Carpenter's house, but have to wait nearly ten minutes before he and Patterson show up. (Fortunately, his parents are very easy going, and with Alyssa's personality you're able to have a really nice conversation with them.) Ian looks grim as he enters, and Patterson looks flushed and aggrieved. When you're back in Ian's bedroom, he turns to you with a skeptical expression. "So, what are <i>you</i> wanting to talk about?"<br/>
<br/>
"First of all, what's this about Kevin?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kevin and Steve here got in a fight," Ian says simply as Patterson rolls his eyes. "I thought you'd have heard about it."<br/>
<br/>
"A fight?" You frown at Patterson. "What about?"<br/>
<br/>
"You aren't my fucking parents, you know," Patterson says hotly. "If I wanna fucking lecture--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, hush, sweetie," you curtly reprimand him. "Was it a serious fight?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not trying to act like your dad, Patterson," Ian says. "I'm just trying to explain how it's not a good idea--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, fuck this," Steve exclaims. "You made your bullshit point--"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, that's enough," you say firmly. "You guys are going to have to get along, for the sake of the team. For <i>my</i> sake, too."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean, 'your' sake?" Ian asks.<br/>
<br/>
But you've already dropped your bag to the floor and are fishing inside it. "Steve, my love, will you hold Ian down?" you say as you pull out the blank mask.<br/>
<br/>
Ian jerks in surprise as Patterson grabs him from behind. Quick as a cat you leap onto the corner of the bed and press the mask against his face. He slumps into Patterson's arms, and your slave lays him next to the bed. "You took your sweet time," he grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. I'd ask you what all this was about with Kevin, but I'll know in a few minutes." You lock the door and start to tear off your clothes. "Sit on him if he wakes up before I do." Once you've got most of your clothes off, you lay back and clutch at your face. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Okay guys, listen up." You clap your hands hard, sending a loud crack through the changing room, and the rest of the team turns around to listen to the pre-practice talk. It's Wednesday morning, and you are still playing the part of Ian Carpenter. "I had a nice, long talk with Patterson yesterday--"<br/>
<br/>
"Good. You tell him how far he could shove that attitude up his ass?" Brett Dutoit shouts.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, we came up with a different plan," you say placidly. "He and I are now co-captains."<br/>
<br/>
There's a moment of silence, and then shouts break out. You let them yell for a few seconds, then raise your hand. Still they shout, until you clench your hand into a fist and wearily brandish it. One by one they all fall silent.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know," you say. "We had a long talk about tactics and strategy. I got him to see that we do best at teamwork, you know, cooperatively. But he got me to see that we've been using that to mask a certain amount of ... well, he said 'laziness'--" Groans and catcalls. "But I'll just say that maybe each of us relies on the others too much. We're gonna step up the individual effort while still trying to keep the teamwork aspect in play."<br/>
<br/>
"But how come he gets to be co-captain?" Derek Linwood challenges. <br/>
<br/>
"Because he can handle that part better than me. It's what him and Gordon Black were doing at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck Westside," you hear a murmured voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and with his help, we will. Good and hard," you say, mildly. "But remember, Patterson is co-captain, which means you listen to him with the same attention and respect as you listen to me." You catch Ben Paxon smirking. "But if you got a problem with Patterson, you can still come to me."<br/>
<br/>
Scott Bridges's hand shoots up in the air. "I gotta problem, Ian."<br/>
<br/>
"Suck it up, Scott. Okay." You clap your hands again. "Let's get in shape this morning so we'll look good this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
You run them hard--much harder than is Ian's wont--but are pleased by the results.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So you got any gossip for me?" you ask the top of Alyssa's head when you bump into her just before lunch.<br/>
<br/>
She lifts her face to stare up into yours. <i>God, she is so beautiful.</i> It says something about Alyssa's blind spots--and about Ian's native reticence--that you hadn't recognized how much of a thing he has for her until you got his mask on and could only watch agog as she dressed in front of you. <i>If Ian were conscious, and knew where he was--under Alyssa's face--he might not want to return to being himself.</i><br/>
<br/>
"What's that?" you ask aloud, for you weren't paying attention while she was speaking.<br/>
<br/>
"I said-- Oh come on. Your ears aren't that far from my mouth," she says with playful waspishness. "I said, I found out why I didn't hear about Kevin's fight with Steve. Freaking Lisa--"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to hear about that," you say. Problems between Alyssa and Lisa have far less salience for you now. Casually you put your hands in your pockets and nudge Alyssa off toward a corner of the front quad. "I mean, about that box."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, right. Yeah, real interesting, that" she drawls. "I think we've definitely got ourselves some suspects." She doesn't see the way you're glaring at her; she <i>does</i> love to draw things out. "So, you remember Scott Bickelmeier, on the football team from last year?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know Scott. He transferred to Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he was working at Salopak this last summer, until August, when he got fired."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I hear he and his friend got drunk at work."<br/>
<br/>
"August, huh? Timing is right. That's when Blackwell had the box sent over there. So, Scott and-- You said he had a friend there too? Who was working there with him?"<br/>
<br/>
She grins. "Sawyer. Harrison." She emphasizes each word.<br/>
<br/>
You blink and then gape. "<i>Sawyer?!</i>" You let out a low whistle. <br/>
<br/>
She nods. "Uh huh. I talked to Belinda last period. Apparently, the company fired him and Scott for getting drunk, but the family is thinking of suing, saying that it was exposure to toxic chemicals, not alcohol, that, you know--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, have they figured out what it was that <i>did</i> put him in that coma?"<br/>
<br/>
She shakes her head. "Belinda says the doctors are totally baffled. There's no medical reason for it. She says his brain activity is totally normal. It's just that the pathways from his brain to his body aren't working right." She shivers. "They're thinking he may be totally awake in there, but trapped."<br/>
<br/>
"That would be horrible," you agree, but you're also running calculations in your head. "Lessee, Sawyer fell into that coma toward the end of August, right?" She nods. "Yeah, the timing is perfect." You tug on your lip. "But what about Scott? Didn't you say he was fired for the same reason?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but there was something else there."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "I haven't found out yet. But I know he was supposed to come back to Eastman, but at the last minute before classes started he suddenly transferred to Westside. And it's not like his parents moved."<br/>
<br/>
This is all very puzzling. There are no definite clues that suggest either Sawyer or Scott are connected to that box, but the circumstantial evidence is strong. Both avenues would be worth investigating, though they are each tricky. Ian is well acquainted with Scott (formerly of the Eastman football squad, now of the Westside squad), but questioning Scott might be difficult. Sawyer can't even answer questions, but if you visited him at the hospital, you might be able to determine if there is a magical cause behind his coma.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121121212222122
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hospital
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"It's really sweet of you to come, Alyssa," Belinda says as she leads you down the hospital corridor. "Not a lot of Sawyer's friends have come to visit him."<br/>
<br/>
You cluck your tongue at the shame of it, though you know perfectly well why that would be. Sawyer Harrison was something halfway between a jerk and a goofball; an ugly kid with thick lips and piggy eyes who tended to breath through his mouth. He would make inappropriate comments in class and laugh at inappropriate moments, and thought it was funny to jump into the middle of games--whether it was basketball, football, poker, or chess--and screw up the playing field. Only a handful of people could tolerate him: he acted like he had stopped maturing at the age of twelve.<br/>
<br/>
"People just get so wrapped up in their lives that they forget about others," is all you say, and you juggle the big bouquet of flowers in your arms so that Belinda--Sawyer's freshman-grade sister--can't see your expression. "I mean, take me. I should have visited earlier, but ..."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're here now. Mom and Dad will be really happy."<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, it's my pleasure."<br/>
<br/>
You arrive in Sawyer's room, to be greeted by Mrs. Harrison, who has been sitting wanly by his bedside. She greets you as effusively as Belinda had, and gasps over the flowers. "They're lovely, er ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Alyssa Randal," you say. "They're probably not a boy thing, but they really brighten up a room."<br/>
<br/>
"They surely do!" Mrs. Harrison says. "I'll just take them out and see if we can find a vase big enough for them. You certainly brought enough!" <br/>
<br/>
She bustles out, leaving you and Belinda alone. Her brother, dressed in a hospital gown, lies under thin coverlets in a bed, connected to a machine that goes ping. You note that there are no tubes connected to him. "Shouldn't he have, like, IV drips and things?"<br/>
<br/>
Belinda shakes her head. "They feed him liquids and mush, but through his mouth. A lot of his motor controls work just fine, so they can just lift him up and feed him. It's one of the things that really has them baffled. They say it's like he just doesn't have any conscious control over his body, but all the involuntary reflexes and things are still perfectly intact."<br/>
<br/>
"And they have no idea what the problem is?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. They're talking about bringing in some top doctors from Johns Hopkins or other places. It's such an odd case. There was no head trauma or anything." From the way she says it, you can tell she is very proud to be able to know and correctly use the term "head trauma."<br/>
<br/>
"How did it happen? I mean, when did he fall into the coma, and like that?" You wince with embarrassment that you don't know the facts of the case.<br/>
<br/>
"It was at school. I mean, it was during vacation, but he was at the school with Scott-- Scott Bickelmeier, you know? And one of Scott's friends. They said they were just playing around when he collapsed."<br/>
<br/>
"Playing around with what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. They called 911 and the paramedics got him out here. They pumped his stomach and did all kinds of tests, but nothing turned up like--" She makes a face. "Like they'd been drinking or doing any drugs or anything." Her face darkens. "But there was something weird going on."<br/>
<br/>
"What makes you say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like, stuff out where he had been working? Like I told you, Mom and Dad think he got exposed to some chemicals, because he got fired for drinking out there. But he never drank."<br/>
<br/>
You snort silently to yourself; you seriously doubt Sawyer Harrison was totally clean and sober. "Who was this other guy he was with? Scott's friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. Just someone."<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Harrison returns and you engage in more small talk, and then the three of you sit quietly and look at Sawyer. He is in quite good shape, all things considering. Impatiently you bide your time for what seems like forever, and then Mrs. Harrison offers to fetch everyone something from the cafeteria. You readily accept, and to your relief Belinda goes off with her mother.<br/>
<br/>
As soon as they leave you leap over next to Sawyer's bedside and bend over him. He is completely immobile and completely unresponsive, and there is no mark or sign on his body of what might be wrong with him. But if he got mixed up with something from the <i>Libra,</i> the lock should be somewhere on his face. <br/>
<br/>
Closely you peer at it. You've no idea what kind of spell might be upon him--if spell there be--but if it is a mask or mind band ... You put your hand to his forehead, gently work your fingers into position, mutter the phrase, and pull.<br/>
<br/>
Probably there isn't actually a ripping noise, but it sounds sort of like one, and a mask comes away in your hand. The machine attached to his arm briefly goes wild and then returns to its monotonous tone. You stare at the mask, and you stare at Sawyer--<br/>
<br/>
And his eyes open.<br/>
<br/>
"Sawyer?" you gasp. As unobtrusively as you can, you slip the mask into your nearby bag. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God," he says in a heavy, slightly muffled tone, and lets out a long sigh. He raises his head and looks around. "Where the fuck am I?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It was an intensely emotional scene, of course, when Mrs. Harrison and Belinda returned. Doctors were summoned, and you and Belinda were shooed from the room. You lingered, of course, for nearly twenty minutes, until Mrs. Harrison reappeared, tears of joy streaming down her face. "It's a miracle," was all she could say. She hugs you. "How did--? And you were right there!"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess he just needed a tiny bit more love," you say. She squeezes you even more tightly.<br/>
<br/>
Naturally, it doesn't take long for word of the miracle to start getting around, and when you show up at school the next morning it's the first thing Lisa and Mandy and Natalie demand of you--the story of Sawyer Harrison's recovery in your presence. You beamingly give them the general contours, the most salient fact of which is that Sawyer appears to be in perfect health, and after a day or two more of observation will likely return to home and school. Mrs. Harrison would not be pleased at how lukewarmly this news is received.<br/>
<br/>
But your interest--even though you're at school and the thing is at Alyssa's house--is fixed firmly on the mask that you pulled off of him. In rough form it appeared to be a classic mask, and it even has a name inscribed on its inner surface: KATRINA MAUREEN UPDIKE. But it is enclosed by a circular sigil. That and the way it acted upon Sawyer tell you it is not a mask like any you have encountered before.<br/>
<br/>
It would be dangerous to try the mask yourself, but you want to know what it does, especially when a close talk with Belinda proved unilluminating: from her you learn that Sawyer says he was unconscious the whole time he was in a coma, with no awareness of anything. So that's a dead end--unless he is hiding something. Maybe you should wait until he shows up at school again and have one of Alyssa's heart-to-heart talks with him.<br/>
<br/>
Alternately, having tracked down Sawyer's end of the thread, you could now return to Ian and use him to try tackling Scott Bickelmeier. </span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211212
author_id: seuzz
title: Take Westside or the university.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Do we repair the book?" you ask. "Or is that something to be left alone?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we repair it," says Keith. "Otherwise, the other two will wonder what the Eastman guy is up to. But we unlock each spell only in each other's presence."<br/>
<br/>
"I think we should go ahead and unlock that torn page now," Caleb says. "The next spell might be useful for the rest of the plan. And we're all here, and you've a pretty good idea of what to do, right?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. You're glad Caleb suggested unlocking the torn page: it was the one thing that tempted you to take Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
So the three of you drive back over to Blackwell's and use it to make a mind-strip, which is the primary ingredient in the spell. The rest of the ingredients just have to do with putting the finish on it. <br/>
<br/>
"The whole trick was reading it right," you point out happily as you carve the runes into the strip. "Everything is right there on the top of the page. I bet the bottom of the page was just blank. Poor Blackwell," you sneer contemptuously. "He kept jabbering about the book 'seeking' me out, and never thought to take it seriously. So when he saw the ingredients called for 'libras anima' he had no idea what to do, even with the help of the runes themselves: 'Use me to solve me' is their proper translation, not, as he thought, 'My use is the solution'. So simple when you think of it," you chuckle. "The damn page was torn on purpose, and you had to be smart enough to see that the whole point of the spell was to create the means to get past the tear." You press the newly minted strip against the spine of the book, and it sinks out of sight. "I suppose if it had called for 'mentis libras' he would have gotten it, but the idea that the book itself has an animating spirit? Never crossed his mind."<br/>
<br/>
The strip reappears, and you flip back to the damaged page. "This should do it." You place the strip on the page, and again it briefly glows and sinks out of sight, not to reappear. The rest of the page—which, as you surmised, is blank—suddenly regenerates. It easily turns. <br/>
<br/>
And all of your faces fall when you see the next spell: a paragraph that takes up a full page, with no breaks or obvious list of ingredients. "Well, this'll take forever," Keith mutters.<br/>
<br/>
"Here's what I suggest," Caleb says. "We make some masks—five should do to start with—Keith and me will start polishing them up. We'll keep the <i>Libras</i> here for the time being, and Will can use the library to start figuring out the next spell."<br/>
<br/>
"We should make a golem," you suggest. "Having at least one on hand will be useful later for scut work like polishing."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Blackwell's golems," Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"They were under his power. We don't put masks on them."<br/>
<br/>
"Makes sense," Keith concedes. "So which school do you want?"</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112121
author_id: seuzz
title: A New Toy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I'll stick to Westside," you say. "That means we can use the mask of me that is already golemized with my image. It will be safe to put that one on Blackwell's golems, and we'll instantly have a third worker to polish up masks."<br/>
<br/>
"And it'll keep one of us from snooping through your head," Caleb points out.<br/>
<br/>
"The thought never crossed my mind," you smile back. It's a transparent lie, but the others just laugh.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The logistics for the rest of the week are a little daunting, as you have to cycle through fake identities in order to spread out the absences at school. On Tuesday Caleb has to take an "absence" because he is playing the part of you and you are playing Blackwell. On Wednesday Keith takes an absence to play Blackwell and you play yourself while your golem polishes masks. On Thursday you play Blackwell again; your golem finishes polishing up masks; and Keith and Caleb go to school as themselves. By Thursday you have five blank masks made up, along with a clutch of mind strips that Caleb (who will be taking over the university) will use to snoop around to find some good prospects. <br/>
<br/>
You have also cracked the ninth spell, much more quickly, too, than you had anticipated. "This is a really dangerous spell," you tell them. "And it is really important that we all understand how it works so we're not tempted to misuse it."<br/>
<br/>
"They're all dangerous if misused," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but this one could blow up our partnership before we even get started." The other two glance at each other, and you wonder if they have been talking with each other behind your back.<br/>
<br/>
"It's related to the anima-spell that unlocked the torn page," you explain. "It copies a person's 'vital essence', his soul, practically. If you put one of these strips on, you get <i>everything</i> that person has. If you put on a copy of someone's anima, you turn <i>into</i> them, on the inside."<br/>
<br/>
"How is that different from a regular mind strip?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You not only get their mind, you get their own sense of who they are. If you were to put on a mind-strip of Melody Weiss," you say, naming one of Blackwell's star students, "you wouldn't just know everything she knows. You would become convinced that you <i>were</i> Melody. You'd feel like you were Melody Weiss, and that you'd been transferred into Caleb's body." You jab at his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks a little puzzled. "I still don't see how it's different."<br/>
<br/>
"And if you know what's going on, that you've just put on one of these anima-strips--" Caleb starts to say.<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "You're not listening. When you put on a mind strip, your personality and everything has control over the personality in the mind strip. When you put on an anima-strip, its personality overrides yours. Put it like this: It turns your brain into a mind strip, and the brain in the anima-strip takes control of everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why would you ever put one on?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't. You'd put one of <i>your</i> anima strips on someone else, to turn them into a mental duplicate of you."<br/>
<br/>
Keith pushes back from the desk you're sitting at. His nostrils flare. "Are you saying that if you put one of these strips, that had your—whatsit called, an anima? If you put it on me, I'd turn into your slave?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not technically. Not like a golem. But my personality would override yours. Your brain would just be a sock puppet that my personality could use to keep impersonating you. Because it would be in your body."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb swallows hard. "This is really fucked up, Will. Um, don't think we don't trust you, but—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know, I know. But here's why you can. Because the anima strip also copies all of my magical talents. I'd be creating someone just as powerful as me. And they wouldn't be my slave. He and I might start off being cooperative with each other. But eventually we would diverge. And then bad things would probably start to happen. I just got rid of Blackwell. I don't want to create another rival who would be even stronger than him. Let alone two of them." You point to each of your two friends in turn.<br/>
<br/>
They still look very disturbed. "You might find a way around that," Keith says.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. But it's an awful risk. Anyway, I'm telling you guys this up front, so you can be on your guard. And the anima-strips can't penetrate a mask, so you'll be safe when you're inside your new bodies." You don't mention that you suspect there are ways around that. "Also, you won't want to use one of these strips on me, because there's no way to be sure that the, uh, new and improved me would continue to be your friend, even with your personality. In fact," you say, "whoever uses these strips on the other two will be a double-crossing douchebag. And that means that the people they have changed into their mental duplicates will also be double-crossing douchebags. You'd have gotten rid of your friends, and replaced them with douchebag doubles of yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"That makes sense," Caleb says slowly after a pause. "But it also means that I don't know what use these things are."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, any anima-strips of me <i>are</i> useless, because they are too dangerous. But anima-strips of <i>you guys</i> would be really useful to all of us. Because the people you put them on, at Eastman or at the university, will want to help you. And I can use them at Westside, because you guys would want to help <i>me.</i> Right?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith and Caleb look at you, and then they look at each other, and then they smile as the implications sink in. "Of course," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Good." You dump out a sack that contains six blank anima-strips. "I'll need three from each of you. Caleb will take two of his to help get into college students, Keith will take two of his to help get into Eastman students, and I'll take one of each of you to help getting into ... Well, whoever I choose."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you going to pick?" Keith asks. "Gordon and Chelsea, right?"<br/>
<br/>
Those are the obvious people—the captain of the basketball team and chief bully; and his equally sadistic girlfriend, who is captain of the cheerleader squad. And yet you could always just use the anima-strips of Keith and Caleb to take quasi-control of them. There are other students at Westside with intriguing lives.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121211
author_id: seuzz
title: Two Jerks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Gordon and Chelsea are kind of obvious, don't you think?" you smile. "But sometimes the obvious choice is the right one. Come on, let's get these new strips made up."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't take the three of you long to make up the six strips, and you divide them three ways. "So, who are you going to put mine on," Keith asks eagerly.<br/>
<br/>
"Depends on who I try to get first. Chelsea or Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, put mine in one of the cheerleaders," Keith begs. "I know what I want. Cindy or one of the Garner girls."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Seth Javits," you retort. "With him I could get to Gordon easy."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude," Keith exclaims. "That is so fucked up." He grins. "I love it." Seth has been Keith's tormentor for years.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you? How are you going to get into Eastman?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll think of something," he says carelessly. "I'll aim for the basketball team over there. I'll kick your guys' asses. Your ass included."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe on game days I'll stick to being Chelsea, cheer my guys on from the side."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you should shoot for Chelsea first," Caleb suggests. "How are you going to get close to Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Isn't it obvious?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Jeremy Richards glares over his shoulder after you bump roughly into him at his locker, and his expression doesn't clear up when he sees who has jostled him. "Watch where you're going, doofus," he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Jeremy, don't be a dick," you retort. "We used to be friends."<br/>
<br/>
He mutters something inaudible; clearly he doesn't like being reminded that he used to hang out with you and Caleb and Keith back in middle school, before he had a massive growth spurt and decided he'd rather be one of the jocks. <br/>
<br/>
Anyway," you continue. "I bumped into you because I wanted to talk."<br/>
<br/>
"What about?" he grumbles, and turns back to his locker.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you come down here, or do I have to get a stepladder?" you demand. He makes a face back at you, then ostentatiously bends over to rest his hands on his knees. He has a dull face, with heavy-lidded, dark eyes behind long, dark-brown bangs, and his mouth hangs open in an impatient frown. It's not a pretty face, and he hasn't got a regular girlfriend, and he isn't even one of the good basketball players. You momentarily feel sorry for the Caleb <i>anima</i> ...<br/>
<br/>
"You got something on your forehead," you say, and stretch your palm up. He flinches back when he should have batted your hand away, but this corner of the hallway is too crowded, and he can't escape your reach. The band settles onto his bangs, but it's enough: through your fingers you see it burn briefly and disappear. His expression goes slack and he stumbles backwards. "Watch it, asshole," a peevish voice calls behind him as he falls back and folds into a sitting position under his locker.<br/>
<br/>
You bend down and peer at him closely. He's breathing heavily and his eyes go in and out of focus a few times before settling on your face. A look of bewilderment crosses his face. "Will?" he asks in a puzzled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, lemme help you," you say, pulling at his arm. Heavily, he rises again and looks around uncertainly. "We need to talk."<br/>
<br/>
He follows you out the hallway and around the corner of one of the wings. "How are you doing on those stilts," you call back to him. You only hear a snorting noise. Finally, when you're mostly isolated from the other, hurrying knots of students, you turn to face him. "Okay, what's your name? Think carefully before you reply."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes gleam. "What is this, a trick question? Jeremy Richards, and I oughta pile-drive you into the ground for sticking me here."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, sorry about that, dude, but I need your help. You know that, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I get it." He looks around with a veiled smirk. "I get Seth for you--or for Tilley, right? Christ, he gets all the breaks."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you can talk him into sharing Cindy with you afterward. Anyway, can you get Javits out to the clubhouse after school, so I can get Tilley's band onto him?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's too much work, isn't it?" He holds out his hand. "Just let me put the dingus on him. I'll be hanging out with him after school. We'll meet you at the clubhouse afterward."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh-- Yeah, I guess that'll work." You suddenly feel reluctant to hand over the band: you don't like it being out of your control. "I guess that's the smart play."<br/>
<br/>
"Damn straight. I got screwed, but Jeremy benefits. When was the last time he had a better idea than you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just don't be too smart. Keep in character."<br/>
<br/>
"Bite me, Prescott." He shoves you roughly, then lopes away. You watch his retreating back with a sense of disquiet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Disquiet turns to alarm later that afternoon, when the door to the clubhouse bursts open, and Richards and Javits charge in, hooting and hollering. Before you can say anything, Seth catches you in a headlock and lifts you up while Richards pulls first your shoes off and then strips you of your jeans and underwear. "The fuck are you guys doing," you yell.<br/>
<br/>
"Playing keep-away," Richards chortles. He balls your things up and lofts them high overhead to Javits, who easily catches them and holds them out of reach. "Where's that stepladder when you really need it, asshole?"<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, this isn't funny," you shout, and make a leap. <br/>
<br/>
Javits just laughs and lofts them back at Richards. "Says you. We don't talk until you get 'em back."<br/>
<br/>
Desperately you charge and jump, but your things just arc high out of reach between the two ball players. But eventually they tire, and Richards spitefully shoves them in your face. "You're such a pussy," he jeers, sounding cross.<br/>
<br/>
"Just wait until I've got Gordon," you growl as you fumble your things back on.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, about that," Seth says, leaning back with a leer. "What if we said we weren't going to help you?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Richards jumps in. "We're not, like, those asshole golems. We don't gotta do what you or anyone else says."<br/>
<br/>
"The plan is for you to help me!" You feel the blood drain from your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Your plan, maybe," Seth jeers. "What if we've got other plans?"<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. "Like what," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a fuckwit," Seth says, scratching at a bulging bicep. "Like, we get you out of the way, start using the book ourselves?"<br/>
<br/>
As you gape at him, arms close around your torso: Jeremy has you pinned. Seth saunters over to your bag and rummages through it, pulling out the blank mask. "So, we get a copy of you, use some of our stuff--" He tweaks at a bit of his hair. "Stick you inside it. Caleb and Keith would never know you'd been replaced with your own double."<br/>
<br/>
Your breath comes heavily and raggedly as he holds your eye. Then, just as abruptly Richards releases you and pushes you to the side. "You're so gullible, Will," he sighs. "Of course we're gonna help you. But, uh--" He and Seth exchange a hard high-five. "We're just pointing out that you really didn't think things through too good."<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hammers wildly, even though their expressions are now a lot more friendly. They're right--you are, at the moment, almost completely within their power, and they are going to be argumentative allies, assuming they remain allies. You lick your lips. "Okay, what do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
The question seems to startle them, for they exchange a glance. "Want?" Jeremy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you're right, you're not golems. You're-- Well, you're Keith and Caleb. Basically." The side of Javits' lip goes up fractionally. "So, what do you want me to do for you after I've got Gordon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, we hadn't thought of that," Jeremy admits. "We were just jerking your chain. But now that you mention it--" He scratches an ear.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I can get you new bodies," you say. "Like, I'm not sure I can put a mask onto someone who is wearing an <i>anima</i> band."<br/>
<br/>
"You could try," Seth says. His eyes have begun to shine. "Though maybe you should test it out on someone first."<br/>
<br/>
"But can we even get Gordon for him?" Jeremy interrupts. "Like, where could we do the switch-off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you get him out here?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Why would he be interested in a shit hole like this?" Jeremy retorts. "It's home for us, but he's got his own hangout at the school."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, that's no problem," Javits says. "Tell him we found another place he can use. Someplace he can go when he wants to take a girl who isn't Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy mulls this. "Well, you know him better than me."<br/>
<br/>
"We could probably get him this afternoon, in fact," Javits says. "Him and Chelsea are on the outs again. They were screaming at each other at lunch." He looks at you as he pulls out his cell phone. "So, coach. You wanna make the play now?"<br/>
<br/>
Tempting as it is, you wonder if maybe you shouldn't do something about these two assholes first.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211212111
author_id: seuzz
title: Going as Gordon
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Fuck it. Once you get inside Gordon you can probably handle these two. "Yeah, if you can get him out here, let's get it done."<br/>
<br/>
Seth quickly dials. "Hey, Gordon, it's Seth. What's up? Really? You wanna <i>get it up</i>?" He grins. "Listen, me and Richards found someplace you oughta scope out. If you can turn loose, you should come meet up with us." He listens. "Just call it a surprise." His face tightens. "Okay, how about let's say we've found a back-up, uh, lounge for you. You know, a place you can crash when you need someplace to go that Chelsea doesn't know about." Again, he listens. "Look, I'm just trying to do you a favor. At least come check it out before you say no." He sniffs and purses his lip. "Yeah. Okay, you know the old elementary school in Acheson?" He covers the mouthpiece and asks you for the address, which he passes it along to Gordon. "Cool. Trust me, you'll go for it when you see it. Fifteen? Excellent." He turns off the phone and winks at you.<br/>
<br/>
"How are we gonna do this?" Jeremy asks.<br/>
<br/>
"He shouldn't see me here," you say. "I'll hide behind some of this shit, and you guys get the blank mask on him."<br/>
<br/>
"What do we do with him afterward?"<br/>
<br/>
You dig inside your backpack. "Put the mask of me onto him, obviously. Let me just charge it up with today's happenings." <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Seth takes up station outside the school, while Jeremy watches from the open doorway. Not long after you've woken from copying your latest memories into the golemized mask of yourself, Jeremy whistles softly over his shoulder at you, and you duck back down behind some old desks. A few minutes later--<br/>
<br/>
"--about your speed," a familiar, sour voice says. The wooden steps inside the basement creak. "Pfft. It's a junk shop."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it that much worse than the space you've got at the gym," Seth asks. "Spruce it up a bit, and it should be okay."<br/>
<br/>
"Place back at school is better," Gordon says. "It's on-site. This is really out of the way."<br/>
<br/>
"That's the great thing about it," Richards says. "No one will find you here."<br/>
<br/>
"And why would I want to hang out here anyway? I got better places to crash when I wanna be alone."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you can bring a girl who's not Chelsea and not have to worry about--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's none of your fucking business, Javits," Gordon growls. "You two queers want this place you're welcome to it. Thanks for nothing."<br/>
<br/>
"What's this?" Richards says. <i>Finally! About time he picked up the mask and tried getting it onto Gordon.</i><br/>
<br/>
A hard hand seizes you by the back of your shirt and hauls you up. Jeremy laughs harshly. "Look what I found. I thought I heard a noise."<br/>
<br/>
You stare around wildly-- Is this another joke? It better be.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black--the biggest and very nearly the tallest and strongest student at Westside--glances back at you. His narrow gaze betrays only a cursory interest, but he turns solidly around to confront you with his hands on his hips. "The fuck are you," he asks in low baritone.<br/>
<br/>
You say nothing, until Jeremy roughly shakes you. "Uh. Will Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck are you asking <i>me</i> for? I've seen you around." His frown deepens, then he snorts as he looks back around at Javits. "Well, looks like you found something alright. A place for losers. Yeah, you can definitely keep it."<br/>
<br/>
You glance around: The blank mask is on a nearby table, out of reach. You could lunge for it, but--<br/>
<br/>
Richards shoves you hard, sending you careening into Gordon, who shoves you back twice as hard, so that you ricochet off a table and back onto Richards. As you crash into him, you feel him press something into your hands: the mask. "Fucking klutz," he barks. "Apologize to Gordon." He spins you around.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it," Gordon says: so unimpressed is he with you that he isn't even interested in bullying you. <br/>
<br/>
But Jeremy grabs you around the waist and by the back of your jeans and hauls you up off the ground; then he staggers forward toward Black. "Look him in the eye and say it, asshole."<br/>
<br/>
At this elevation you can almost look the basketball team captain the face. "Uh, sorry, Gordon," you start. His lip curls in a sneer--and you jam the mask onto his face. He falls backward, and to your own sardonic satisfaction takes Javits with him as he topples.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy drops you. "The fuck was that about," you demand, rounding on him. <br/>
<br/>
"Just thought you'd want the honors," he says cheerfully. "Besides, it's fun making you sweat."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After the mask rematerializes on Gordon's face, you swap it out for your mask, then order your duplicate to strip himself of Gordon's clothes. After you've stripped--and you do your best to ignore the chortles and smirks from your teammates--you hand him your bundle, and when he's dressed send him home to take your place. You then stretch out on a table and place the new mask on your own face.<br/>
<br/>
Gordon Black's mind closes around your own, growling with anger and confusion. But it's an empty thing of bluster and testosterone, and you quickly master it, wrapping your own will around his memories. Your eyes blink open, and you stare at the dusty ceiling for a moment, then reach over to rest a heavy hand on your chest: thick, plate-like muscles rise and fall gently under your fingers. You sit up with a grimace, and glance down: a flat stomach with a soft ridge of abdominal muscles falling down toward tree-trunk-like legs. You pull one leg up and sit up. "So how's it feel?" Seth's voice comes from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You glare back at him Jeremy. "The fuck is going on?" you bark. "Where's my shit?" Seth and Jeremy just stare. With a snarl you swing yourself off the table and advance menacingly on them. "I asked you a question, you fucking homo." Seth opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Swiftly, you punch him hard in the stomach, and he falls backwards, bending double. Jeremy steps forward, and you catch him hard in the jaw with your elbow, sending him reeling. Turning back to Javits, you seize him by the throat and force him back hard against a bookshelf. "I said, what did you do with my shit?" You feel your eyes blazing as you press your face close to his.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus! Will!" Jeremy croaks behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell your fuckbuddy to answer, or I'll beat it out of <i>you,</i> Richards," you snarl without turning. "You like your teeth, Javits? You wanna take 'em home with you in your pockets?"<br/>
<br/>
Richards grabs you from behind. "Get the mask off him!" he shouts. Seth staggers forward, but you kick him savagely in the stomach with one foot, and then kick backwards with the heel, catching Richards in the crotch. His grip loosens enough that you can twist free, and you grab the back of his head and shove him down as you kick up with your knee. Blood flies, and Jeremy collapses onto the floor.<br/>
<br/>
You wheel again on Seth, but he backs up with upstretched hands. "Will! Gordon!" he gasps. "It's not-- Look, I'm sorry about--!" <br/>
<br/>
"Not as sorry as you're gonna be, asshole. The fuck is all this about?" You pin him back against the bookshelf again with your forearm pressed hard against his throat. His eyes bulge, and you feel him fruitlessly trying to swallow.<br/>
<br/>
"Will! You have to snap out of it," Jeremy's muffled voice comes softly behind you. "You're not-- You're not--"<br/>
<br/>
"Your stuff is over there," Seth stammers. His face is very white. "It was just a joke, Gordon. You-- You fell, and-- And--"<br/>
<br/>
Fun is fun, and you should probably stop pretending that you don't know who you really are. But you also remember the hell they put you through over the last hour, and you still don't trust them entirely. You don't need them anymore, now that you've got Gordon. If you wanted to get the <i>anima</i> bands off them, this is the time to do it, when you can confuse the restored Javits and Richards with Gordon's own rage. </span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Trouble in Mind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Gotcha, asshole," you sneer. You release Javits, but give him one more hard shove. "I toldja you'd be sorry once I was inside Gordon. How's it feel being on the receiving end?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," Javits pants. His face is white and his voice trembles. "Holy shit, that was scary."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it was supposed to be. You okay down there, Richards?" <br/>
<br/>
Jeremy looks up from the floor; blood seeps from between the fingers he has pressed against his nose. "Fuck you," he mutters. "I think you broke it."<br/>
<br/>
"Shake it off. You're not hurt." You stretch an arm and rub your shoulder. "You faggots couldn't take me, even together. Un fucking believable."<br/>
<br/>
"Best two out of three?" Javits says.<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "Not likely. Where <i>did</i> you put-- Oh, there it is." They've actually folded Gordon's clothes up neatly on the table. You snatch up underwear and loose cotton shorts and pull them on. "This's been fun, but--" You put the palm of your hand on your chest, then draw it slowly down your hard, flat stomach. "Ungh. If I wanna real workout, I'll have to find more than a couple of old ladies like you."<br/>
<br/>
"Speaking of old ladies, you gonna try getting Chelsea next?" Javits asks.<br/>
<br/>
"No 'try' about it, she's definitely next," you retort. You pause as you're pulling the t-shirt on: the last time Gordon saw Chelsea they'd had a huge screaming match; she'd accused him of ogling other girls at school. "Yeah, that wildcat needs taming." You pull at the front of the t-shirt, which binds tightly to your massive chest. "Not too much taming, though," you add with a smirk.<br/>
<br/>
"What's she like," Javits asks with a gleam in his eye. "You know." He thrusts his crotch in and out.<br/>
<br/>
"Tight, hot, and very wet." Your cock starts to rise as memories play out. "Got muscles, too. Like, we'll do it standing up. I hold her, and she wraps her thighs around me and grabs on hard. She bites, too." You rub your neck and collarbone, and your lip curls. "And if you ever ask me about her again, I'll bend you double, shove my arm up your ass so far I can grab your tongue, pull it back, and use it to wipe your own asshole clean. You got me, Javits?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess there's no point asking if you'll share," Jeremy says. He's on his feet again, with his head back, still trying to stanch the flow of blood with the heel of his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, if you want her, I'll share," you shrug. You snatch up an ankle sock and pull it on. "I'll give her a dildo and she can make you her bitch." You pull the other sock on, then grab up a tennis shoe and untie it. "I'll even let you use the fuck room."<br/>
<br/>
"You gonna let us in there?" Seth asks excitedly. "I mean, we're on the same team and all, now."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," you answer while getting your shoes on, pulling and knotting the laces tightly. "You're gonna have to earn it, though."<br/>
<br/>
"It wasn't enough we helped you get Gordon?" Jeremy asks.<br/>
<br/>
You settle Gordon's ballcap backwards on your head and study yourself in the big, full-length mirror, tugging his short bangs down and out the way he likes them. "You really want your nose broken, just keep talking, smart guy," you say. You step back, eyes still on the mirror, and pinch and tuck your clothes until they're settled nicely. You frown, flex a bicep, and palm it appreciatively. "I'll break more than that."<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, Will," Seth says, and there's a whine in his voice. "If this is about us giving you shit and all, we're sorry."<br/>
<br/>
You turn to lock a hard gaze on the Keith-possessed Javits. "You were pretty goddamn convincing, you know," you say softly. "You seemed pretty goddamned serious for a while."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes fall, and he shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Yeah, well, it was just a joke. Sorry you took it the wrong way," he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
You advance, stabbing a stiff finger into his chest and pushing him back against a wall. "It was good enough I'm still not sure I can trust you. You tried getting this mask off me while I was joking with you."<br/>
<br/>
You can see the thought behind his eyes: Yes, he and Richards know how to get masks off, and maybe--<br/>
<br/>
"You'll have to earn my trust back," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah? How?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll have to think about it," you admit. "Anyway, you two can beat it, now. I'll straighten up the place."<br/>
<br/>
The other two look at each other, and then slowly shuffle off toward the door. Richards says something in a low, indistinct voice to Javits, and the latter shoots you a hooded glance as they exit.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Much as you'd like to capture Chelsea, you're sufficiently bothered by the behavior of your two "allies" that you decide to concentrate on protecting your own back, and that means doing more research in the <i>Libra.</i> So after getting the basement cleaned up, you squeeze into your too-small VW Bug and scuttle over to Blackwell's. The door is answered by someone who looks like the magician. "Hey, is Caleb Johansson around," you say. "I'm a friend."<br/>
<br/>
"You're no such thing," he retorts. "To the best of my recollection, the only time you've ever spoken to Mr. Johansson has been to tell him to move his fucking ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. The fuck are you wearing that thing for," you sigh, brushing past him. "You get off on being old, fat and bald?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll admit it makes me feel better about myself when in my natural form," the Blackwell-disguised Caleb smiles. "Actually, it's to preserve the illusion that Professor Blackwell is in residence. Also, loathe though I am to admit it, though you may be a natural-born magician, I am not, and if I am to properly research my own options, it helps to employ the mind of one who is more adept at magic."<br/>
<br/>
"You talk like a fucking Poindexter in that thing," you snort and lope into the kitchen. "You got anything to eat? I'm starving." You pull open the refrigerator door and stare critically into it.<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose we could get take out. But what brings the estimable captain of the Westside basketball squad to my humble villa?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need to look at the magic book," you say. "Order us up a pizza, okay? I'll be in the library."<br/>
<br/>
"Alas, you will not find <i>Libra</i> there. Remember, Mr. <i>Tilley</i> has possession of it, as per our arrangement."<br/>
<br/>
"And what the fuck is Keith gonna do with it? He just graduated from 'Dora the Explorer' last week."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb smiles wryly. "Your estimate of our associate's intellectual capacities may be more, ah, metaphorically than technically accurate, and I wouldn't argue the point. Nonetheless, that <i>was</i> the arrangement. I, too, would have preferred to keep it here, but--" He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking Tilley. Everywhere I turn, he gets in the way."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean by that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing." You're not yet ready to share with him the story of Javits' and Richards' behavior at school. "Where is the little jerkwad?"<br/>
<br/>
"As a matter of fact, he called only a short time ago, to say he would be attending an intimate soiree, at which, he hoped, he would be able to make use of one of those cunning little items we manufactured yesterday, in order to begin his infiltration of your rival high school."<br/>
<br/>
"A party? I hope he doesn't dance in front of anyone." The floor shakes slightly as you jerk and jump in imitation of Keith's dance moves. <br/>
<br/>
"Mmm. And what did you want the <i>Libra</i> for?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look up magic shit. Duh." You scratch your leg.<br/>
<br/>
"Your remark provokes in me a most amusing mental representation," he says, looking you up and down. "I suppose you'll just have to wait until tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
"And if he gets inside someone? Fuck, I don't want to be hunting him down all week. He say where this sorry little party is?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't recognize the name. Mr. Gordon Black might," he says. "But surely you have your own, ah, sources of amusement. What of Miss Cooper?"<br/>
<br/>
"We had a fight. I mean, I can get to her, no problem. Just gotta drive out and yell at her through her window." You fold your arms; that actually sounds like fun. "But, you know, business before pleasure, that kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
"You surprise me with this display of patience and diligence. Are you <i>certain</i> there is nothing wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your cheek. "What about you? You made any headway on your plans?"<br/>
<br/>
"I have not, as yet, settled definitely in any direction. I was able to make mental copies of three students who had office hours with me."<br/>
<br/>
"What about those <i>anima</i> bands we made?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression tightens slightly. "No. I was waiting until I had identified some likely acquisitions. Is that what this is about? As you were able to acquire Gordon Black so quickly, I would deduce you <i>have</i> made use of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I used 'em, and yeah, they worked."<br/>
<br/>
"But?"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, just tell me where Tilley's party is."<br/>
<br/>
"If you go out there, I want to go out there with you. Remember, we are only to use the <i>Libra</i> when all three of us are present." His smile is thin. "That's another reason to trust its keeping to Mr. Tilley. He's far too stupid to abuse it all by himself."<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your lips. If you have to drag Keith back to the house from a party, you'll have to tell him and Caleb all about the way their alter egos were acting, and you're not really keen to do that--it's the kind of thing that might give them ideas about hiding allies of their own at Westside. Maybe you should just to find Chelsea.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Parties of Interest
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, we need to go find Keith," you say. "It's kind of important."<br/>
<br/>
"Give me a few minutes to change," Caleb says. "I'd make the wrong impression, showing up like this."<br/>
<br/>
"Probably make the wrong impression going as yourself," you mutter to his retreating back as he disappears up the staircase.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's a party being given by some Eastman students, which means you and Caleb are both out of place. Still, you're both treated with courtesy. Caleb (who went in before you; you shouldn't be seen arriving together) gets only a few nods as he winds through the crowd, looking for Keith. You garner a lot of attention, though it's plainly respectful, which is no more than you'd expect, considering how big you are.<br/>
<br/>
Tilley, when you spot him, has made a friend: A blonde kid in ratty clothes has an arm hung around his neck, and Keith is grinning like an idiot as the kid chats up a trio of girls. The kid keeps poking Keith in the chest and laughing; Keith blushes.<br/>
<br/>
"You're Gordon Black, right," a voice says behind you, and you turn to find a dark-haired guy. He's a little shorter than you, but tall in his own right, and his dark eyes glitter. "I'm Frank Durras." He holds out his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Yo," you mutter back. "You play ball?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he smiles. "I've been looking forward to meeting you on the court."<br/>
<br/>
"Haven't seen you before." Recognition dawns. "Oh, you're one of the new guys I been hearing about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me and my brother. Joe!" You follow his gaze: a different blonde guy, a different gaggle of girls. "Joe!" Frank yells again. The kid turns around with a frown. "Come meet Gordon Black." But blondie just jerks his chin at you and turns back to the girls. "I guess he thinks he's got better things to do," Frank murmurs apologetically.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't blame him. Those are some hot girls." You take a step toward them.<br/>
<br/>
Someone jostles you. "Hey Gordon, what are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
You turn: It's Keith, grinning insolently up at you. You put a flush in your face. "Looking for you, Tilley." You grasp him by the belt and hoist him up. He gasps. "Let's take it outside."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb rubs his nose. "This really changes things," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"So, they were totally acting like us?" Keith gapes.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, like some bizarro combination of you and the originals. Seth Javits with Keith Tilley's brain." You grimace and glance around Blackwell's library. Your next comment is therefore slightly ambiguous: "Pretty goddamn unholy." <br/>
<br/>
"I guess it makes sense," Caleb says. "Given the way you describe it. They really think they are ... <i>us</i>." He scratches the back of his head. "It's like, what if I put on a mask of Jeremy, and you put one of these anima bands on the real Jeremy. It would be like the same thing. We'd each think we were Caleb Johansson disguised as Jeremy, and act the same way."<br/>
<br/>
"But they <i>know</i> they've got these special bands on them," Keith objects. "Don't they? Doesn't that make a difference?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's what makes it weird," you say. "I don't how they really feel. But they certainly talk and act like they're really you guys."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you just take the anima bands off them," Caleb asks. "You got what you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what would happen." You chew your thumb and look between your friends. "You willing to make an experiment?" Caleb's brow furrows. "Put one of your anima bands on Tilley, then try to take it off."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not doing that to me!" Keith says, his voice almost a shriek.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be a pussy," Caleb retorts. "But if you're going to be that way, fine. We'll put one of your bands on me. You, uh, you wouldn't be wanting to leave it there, would you?" he asks you uneasily. <br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, no. And I'd like to see him try to stop me from taking it off you." As Gordon, you're a head-and-a-half taller than Keith, and at least sixty percent more massive.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb holds out his hand to Keith, and the latter with a white face draws a band from his pocket and hands it to him. Caleb licks his lips, and then puts it to his forehead. His eyes go in and out of focus, and he wobbles in the chair. Then he takes several sharp breaths and sits up straight. His eyes are bright, and he looks quickly between you and Keith. "Huh," he says. "This is interesting."<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you," you ask quietly, leaning in.<br/>
<br/>
His lips twitch. "I'm not sure," he says. "I definitely feel like I'm Keith Tilley--" He shoots a quick look at Keith, who swallows. "But I'm in Caleb Johansson's body."<br/>
<br/>
"But you know you're really Caleb, right?"<br/>
<br/>
His face works. "Intellectually, yeah," he says quietly. "But you'd have a hell of a hard time getting me to really feel like it. Caleb ... Well, that part of me just feels like a sock puppet." You don't like the gleam in his eye.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, this is creepy," you say. "Let's get it off you."<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on," he says, rearing back. You freeze, and Keith sucks in a sharp breath. Caleb's eyes dart about, unseeing, as he works through whatever he's thinking. "What if you put a mask on me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith, go upstairs to the bedroom, get Blackwell's mask," you say. "I'll stay here and keep an eye on Caleb." Keith nods, and stumbles from the room. "Why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wanna see what happens. Does it have to be Blackwell, though?" And in the last question you can definitely hear Tilley's typical whine. When you don't answer, he sighs. "Well, it's just that-- We're all into masks here and stuff. It's kinda cool being Caleb, I guess--" He cocks his head, and you too are again struck by the way he acts like he's possessed by Keith's spirit. "But I guess me and Caleb both would like to try on another disguise."<br/>
<br/>
You remember the way Seth and Jeremy also asked after masks; yeah, it makes sense.<br/>
<br/>
The Blackwell mask, when Keith returns with it, goes on smoothly, and when he revives you have another freaky conversation: Keith pretending to be Caleb pretending to be Blackwell. You cut it short--just too weird--and while he's unconscious you rip the anima band off Caleb. Keith quickly stuffs it back in his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
You rouse Caleb. His head lolls as he recovers consciousness, and then he sits up straight. He glares over at Keith, and punches him hard. "What was that for?" Keith howls.<br/>
<br/>
"Stay outta my head," Caleb says, panting. "That was <i>fucked up!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"You remember all of it?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
He nods grimly. "All of it. What I said, what I did. It's a horrible feeling, like having someone inside and driving you around like a car."<br/>
<br/>
"But it was <i>you!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"It sure as hell didn't feel like it. And I'm having a hard time not choking the life out of the guy who did it to me." He glares again at Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You lean back with a low whistle. "Ain't no fucking way I can take the bands off Javits and Richards then." You look between your two friends. "I'm stuck with them as partners, aren't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're stuck with <i>us</i> as partners," Caleb says. "Remember who they think they are."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Introspection is foreign to Gordon, but you do a lot of thinking overnight, and so you're prepared the next morning. You run practice hard the next morning, and are particularly unsparing toward Javits and Richards, who are very red in the face long before it's over. It's not just from exertion, either; you catch them muttering angrily to each other. When practice is over you send everyone else in to change, but order them to stay.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, all that this morning was just for show," you tell them quietly. "An excuse to talk to you guys alone. Alright?" You clap them on the shoulders, but they still look displeased. <br/>
<br/>
"I did a lot of thinking last night," you continue, "and I see things a lot clearer. You guys are inside Javits and Richards like I'm inside Black. All that crap yesterday? Well, I was acting like an asshole too. It can be kind of hard to keep personalities straight. So forget what I said about 'not trusting you'. We're partners, right?"<br/>
<br/>
They still look skeptical, and you have the bad feeling that your attitude with them yesterday is going to bear some bitter fruit. You're going to have to be really nice--but without being weak--in dealing with them.<br/>
<br/>
"So, since we're partners, I'm gonna treat you like partners," you continue. "You really are Caleb and Keith in there--" You point to them. "And I'm gonna treat you like that. You guys want some masks to play with?"<br/>
<br/>
That does get their attention, and they look at you keenly.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm gonna give each of you five masks. Between the three of us, that'll give us fifteen guys at school we replace and run." Their eyes gleam. "But," you add, and their eyes narrow. "But I'm the boss. That was part of our original agreement, right? I get to run Westside. So six of your masks--three for each of you--I get to say who to use those masks on. You each get to pick two, totally your choice."<br/>
<br/>
"Let us have three, and you get to pick two," Richards instantly counteroffers.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't push it, dude," you warn him. His lips whiten. "I'm not gonna force you to pick people who are gay or anything. You'll like them."<br/>
<br/>
You pause to let them take this in. Behind you, you hear voices: the rest of the team is coming out.<br/>
<br/>
Seth shrugs. "Let us pick first, and then you pick your three?" he offers.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211212111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Keith Spread Thin
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Yeah, okay," you say. "That's fair. We'll each have to make up and polish a mask, and the first mask you guys make can be the first mask you get to use."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought we were gonna have golems to polish the shit up."<br/>
<br/>
"We will, eventually," you say. "But it'll go faster if we all work. Listen, I'll catch up with you guys after school. The elementary school?" They nod. You catch sight of Patterson coming out of the locker room. "And no fucking around, get me?" you say in a loud voice for his benefit, and dismiss them with a jerk of your head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At the start of second period you lope over to the classroom where you know you'll find Caleb, who has told you he'll be in attendance as himself. He's relaxing back in his desk, and gives you a cool nod as you enter. His expression changes to one of alarm, though, when you bend over his desk with a malicious glare. "I think you and me need to talk," you growl.<br/>
<br/>
He flinches as you grab him' the other students become absorbed in the contents of their book bags as you frog march him into a nearby bathroom. "Anyone who wants to watch, buy a ticket!" you yell. "You don't wanna watch, get out!" You hurl Caleb into a stall and flash angry eyes at the others in the room. They all freeze, and the smaller boys start to sidle out. Dalton Douglas sniggers, until you draw up to him with your hands on your hips. "Twenty bucks, asshole. Thirty, if you don't want the same treatment."<br/>
<br/>
His face falls. "Jesus, Gordon. I--" You spin him by the shoulder and hurl him toward the door. He shoots a bitter but regretful look over his shoulder before leaving.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is crouched by the toilet. "Pretty realistic," he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
You plant a foot on the toilet handle and flush it. "I got a reputation to keep up. Let's have some of your hair."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?"<br/>
<br/>
"For the mask we're gonna make of you. You're gonna be moving to the university soon, right? Then we need a double of you, and you'll want it under your control."<br/>
<br/>
"I get it," he says. He winces as he plucks a few strands. <br/>
<br/>
"More," you growl as you tuck them into one of the pockets of your billfold.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, I'll just get some scissors and get them to you later." He sighs deeply as you snap your fingers, and returns to plucking. "We don't have to do this now."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell Tilley he needs to get some to me, too. If he doesn't want <i>Javits</i> coming around and collecting." Caleb pales on Keith's behalf.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb plays it smart, and passes Keith's hair to you through Richards. "It was freaky talking to my old self," he chortles when you and he and Seth meet in the basement after school. "Well, I guess technically--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I had a talk with him yesterday," you say brusquely as you drop the hairs into a plastic bag. You add a scribbled piece of paper ("TILLEY") to it and seal it up. "He's the one who got me to understand what I was dealing with with you guys, so be nice to him. What about <i>you,</i> Javits? How you feeling these days about Keith Tilley?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking little prick," he murmurs, and pushes a fist into the palm of his hand. "You don't know what it's like, looking at yourself and wanting to grind your face into a wall."<br/>
<br/>
"What is it with two?" you grin.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. What about you and Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eh. It's kinda like I don't even know him." You grin to yourself. "Might be fun setting him up with a cheerleader, though. I could do that after I get Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what about Chelsea?" Jeremy drawls.<br/>
<br/>
"She's next, as soon as I got a mask for her. Speaking of which--" You turn to the ingredients, which are set out on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"But you're letting us have first choice," Jeremy continues. "What if I claim her for myself?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd say you're flirting with death." You clap the mirror into the center of the table in a way that sends a sharp echo through the room.<br/>
<br/>
"You wouldn't like it, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I was talking about Chelsea. Flirting with Chelsea, flirting with death." He just stares back at you. "It's like Chelsea <i>is</i> death, and flirting with her is-- Oh Christ, just forget I tried making a joke."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I get it," Jeremy says. "Yeah. Still, you wouldn't like it, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
You look over at him, then draw up close and brush the front of his t-shirt. "You wanna suck my cock, Richards, is that it," you ask slowly. A red spot shows in his cheek even as it pales. You gently cradle the side of his head in your hand. "You think I'm sexy, wanna be my girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, forget-- Jesus, Gordon!" He rears back as you bend in for a kiss.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you drawl. "Whoever gets Chelsea has to put out, every time I ask for it, and has to offer it before I even ask. You <i>don't</i> want her."<br/>
<br/>
"But you'll share her, right?" Seth asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Except when I'm <i>in</i> her."<br/>
<br/>
"That'll be fun for you, being with Gordon," he sniggers.<br/>
<br/>
"What about you, you goin' for Cindy?" you challenge back. His face falls. "You were thinkin' about it, weren't you? Christ, can you imagine what a fucked up scene that would be? You inside Javits' head, inside Cindy, with a golem-Javits' cock thrust up Tilley's-Javits'-Cindy's pussy." Jeremy claps his hands and howls at Seth's discomfiture. "Don't laugh, asswipe. You were thinking about doing the same with Hartlein, weren't you?" Then it's Seth's turn to laugh.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get five masks made, but it will take a lot longer to finish the mind-bands, since they need to be inscribed with runes. "That's okay," you observe afterward as you give a mask each to Javits and Richards. "We can attach 'em later. We can get started polishing in the meantime." You part ways soon after.<br/>
<br/>
You go back out to Blackwell's villa, where to your relief you find Caleb in his own form. "You and Tilley still have two blanks each from our first batch of masks, right?" you ask. He nods. "So, how about we use two of those to go ahead and get you guys copied?"<br/>
<br/>
"That'll just leave us each with one," he points out.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but it means you won't have to go to school anymore. We copy you, seal it up, put a golem inside it, and we can use Blackwell's own golem as the replacement Johansson." He agrees that that's a good idea, and goes to fetch his blanks. "Where's Tilley," you ask when he gets back.<br/>
<br/>
"I think he took off with that Eastman kid after school. I know he got a call."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I kinda wish we'd been able to find him last night before that happened," you observe. "After we found out more about the way anima bands work--"<br/>
<br/>
"How are <i>your</i> guys?"<br/>
<br/>
"You saw Richards today."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but how are they with <i>you</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think it's gonna work," you say, trying to quell your own remaining doubts. You tell him about the afternoon. "They're full of themselves and full of you guys, so they're full of twice as much shit." You shake your head. "I hope Tilley didn't put that band of himself onto a fuckwit."<br/>
<br/>
"Someone talkin' about me?" You turn: the front door must have opened and closed pretty quietly while you were talking in the library, for Keith is grinning at you from the entrance. <br/>
<br/>
"I thought you were off with that Eastman kid. Where is he?"<br/>
<br/>
"Karter? I brought him along." He turns, and the blond kid--just as ratty as before--sticks his head around the corner, a mirthful look on his face. "Got another one, too," Keith's grin fades a little.<br/>
<br/>
Frank Durras steps from behind Karter. His eyes gleam as he takes in the library. "Nice set up we got here," he says as he eyes the bookshelves with intense interest.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus, Tilley! What the fuck--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess that's my fault," Karter laughs. "Keith here left his second anima band with me. I saw you talking to Frank, so I thought I'd help out by getting it onto him." Durras smiles thinly in a way you don't quite like.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. "Well, I guess you're all set up then. We're making copies of you and Caleb, by the way, so that you can go ahead and get moved over to Eastman. How about we make a copy of you and, uh, Durras here. You can swap into him. You want onto the basketball team anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not sure Frank here is the best choice," Durras says. "Home life isn't the best. Keith would be happier as Adam."<br/>
<br/>
"Bullshit," Karter replies. "Buddy, you do <i>not</i> want my life."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he has to have somebody's," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
"So I'll help him get Ian," Frank says. "Captain of the Eastman squad? A good match if he's going up against Prescott and Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Straussler," Karter counters. "Mr. Moneybags. Or how about Joe?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's too many Tilleys in this room for my taste," Caleb mutters.<br/>
<br/>
You're inclined to agree. "Come on, Keith, let's make it one of these guys."<br/>
<br/>
"What's this about this Straussler guy?" Keith asks, ignoring you. Karter tells of one of the basketball guys--insanely rich, good looking, hot freshman girlfriend. Keith is soon nodding excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
Frank backs him up, but then adds another wrinkle. "Still, you should give me another anima band of you. I should get it onto my brother. It's a crappy home life, but it would be easier for us if Joe were part of things."<br/>
<br/>
These bands are tricky to use, and you rear back as Keith turns to you with a hopeful expression.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121212
author_id: seuzz
title: Three New Spells
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You try thinking of some non-standard Westside people you might displace, and you realize ... Well, you really don't have much of a social life. Even before Blackwell and the book came in, you hung out pretty much only with Caleb and Keith. The few other people you know from classes aren't exactly the sort you are interested in replacing.<br/>
<br/>
You're going to need a headhunter. Luckily, you know just who to go to, and she is easy to get to.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kim Walsh does a double-take when you approach her at your locker; her friend—Tina Somebody, you don't really know her that well—makes a face, but Kim herself smiles up cheerfully at you. "Hey Kim, do you think we could get together to talk?" you ask. "Like, after school? I'm, uh, having some problems and I need someone to talk to."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you try a guidance counselor," Tina mutters. "Or a witch-doctor?"<br/>
<br/>
Kim's eyes flicker toward her friend, but she herself just dimples. "Sure," she says. "The library at 3:30?"<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you say. "If anyone can fix my life, you can." She seems genuinely flattered by the double-edged compliment. <br/>
<br/>
"Since when do you hang out with the student body president?" Keith jeers after you move off through the crowds.<br/>
<br/>
"The question is," you reply, fingering the anima-strip in your pocket, "when will <i>you</i> start hanging out with her?" He frowns in mystification, and you don't clarify.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Kim is sitting facing the library door when you come in at 3:35—purposefully late by a few minutes. She gives you a quizzical smile as you say nothing but simply walk around her; once you are behind her, you put one hand over her eyes and another over her forehead. "Guess who?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
She says nothing for a moment, then sighs. "I saw you come in, <i>Will.</i> Okay, now it's your turn. Guess who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kim Walsh."<br/>
<br/>
"Half right. Who's with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"No fair. You peeked."<br/>
<br/>
You sit next to her and return her wry smile with one of your own. "You pissed at me for putting you inside Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she wouldn't be my first choice," she replies, scrunching up her face. "But I assume you've got a reason."<br/>
<br/>
You explain what you want from Kim. She nods thoughtfully when you're done. "Yeah, I can help you. I've got lots of ideas. I'll think about it over the weekend. What are you looking for, I mean, in particular?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath and think. "Well, good-looking. Awesome girlfriend definitely a plus. Fun, interesting hobbies. Good home. Smart."<br/>
<br/>
"How about Geoff Mansfield?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink: Lisa's new boyfriend. "Kind of obvious, don't you think?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you want some surprises. Okay, I'll try thinking outside the box."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want to make it too hard for you, but lots of notes on each, uh, prospect would be nice."<br/>
<br/>
She nods. "Lucky you that Kim just <i>loves</i> writing up reports. Oh, one thing. Does, uh, Keith know what's going on with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't told him. I'll leave it up to you whether to tell him or not," you add, anticipating her next question. "But it might be awkward if you did."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I don't know what you've got against Black or Patterson," Keith says that evening at Blackwell's. He smirks around the quarter-pounder he's chewing. "I'm planning to take the Eastman basketball team. It'd be a lot of fun thrashing your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't got any imagination," Caleb says on your behalf. He pops a few fries into his mouth. "Those guys don't have a future after high school. Get someone who's going places. I like Will's idea. Yo, Jeeves!" he calls. A few seconds later Blackwell, decked out in his best suit and a French maid's apron, appears in the library doorway. He glowers at the three of you. "More ketchup!" Caleb orders. "Chop chop." Blackwell wordlessly disappears.<br/>
<br/>
"You really shouldn't treat him that way," you reproach Caleb. You blow at the last wet spot on the mask. "He's got Blackwell's personality and really resents it when you treat him like that. Hand me that rag."<br/>
<br/>
"He's a slave," Caleb retorts. "Doesn't matter if he likes it. He has to do what I say."<br/>
<br/>
"He might still find a way around your orders and pull something we really don't like." You buff the mask, and are pleased to see that it takes only a light polish to restore it to its brilliant blue color. "The guy's a fake, but he's still a snake."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright, I'll get him laid and then he'll be my best friend," Caleb sighs. "Are you almost done with that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think so." You consult the new spell, which only takes the form of a sigil. "It's not hard. It just reseals the mask again."<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, you didn't just erase your own image from the mask, did you?" Keith asks in some alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"So what if I did? This is the spare, the one you assholes popped on me last week in the old clubhouse." In fact the mask now appears to be a blank: the varnish made by the new spell has even effaced the memory band. "All for the best if it did. It gives us a way of quickly recycling masks. Hell of a lot faster than making  new ones. Okay, who's up for seeing what it does?" There are nods all around, and you press the remade mask to the book. The page turns when you lift it by the corner.<br/>
<br/>
"Blank on the other side," Caleb says, as though you can't see that for yourself. "The guy who wrote the book sure didn't believe in wasting ink."<br/>
<br/>
"You're supposed to figure out how it works just from the sigils and ingredients." You look at the mask thoughtfully. "I don't think that shit erases the mask though. It just covers up what was there before." Your eye wanders over to the next spell, now revealed. It's a complex wheel of sigils within sigils.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, anyway," Keith says, "if it were up to me I'd still take Black and Chelsea."<br/>
<br/>
"Suppose they were off-limits," you say in an irritated tone. "All the basketball players. Lynch and the Molester and Kirkham, too. Who would you take?" You listen with only one ear as you frown over the new spell.<br/>
<br/>
"How about the football team? There's some good beef there. Carstairs, for instance. Or the wrestlers? Anders or Nieves? They got some nice-looking girlfriends, too."<br/>
<br/>
"You're still stuck with the whole jock thing," Caleb says. "No muscleheads."<br/>
<br/>
"What, you think some doofus from the chess club would be fun?"<br/>
<br/>
"What about Mark Kinley? He plays a mean trumpet."<br/>
<br/>
"You're fucking kidding."<br/>
<br/>
"Or how about Tim Gerrard? I hear that poetry shit he writes goes over, like, fucking awesome with the girls." Keith groans. "Or how about just someone who's got money?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, how about Hartlein?" Keith giggles. "Got all kinds of girls hanging off him. Snappy dresser. Drama club. I hear his parents are loaded. Gayer than fuck. Oh, or is that a deal breaker?"<br/>
<br/>
You ignore him and tap the book. "Okay, I see what this is all about. Keith, put the mask on."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just do it." He tries ducking, but you get the mask onto his face too fast. He sags and almost falls out of the chair as he falls into a stupor.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck?" Caleb asks.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a layering spell," you tell him. "See, the middle sigil is just for a mask. Then written around it are the elements for the varnish we just made. Then around that are the sigils for another mask. And around that more varnish. You put one image in the mask, cover it with a layer of this stuff, then put another image in."<br/>
<br/>
"What good does that do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats me." You take the mask off Keith when it reappears, and he and Caleb talk while you put another layer of varnish on. "Forgot to add a mind strip to Tilley's layer," you interrupt them. "Hand me one of your blanks, Caleb." You attach it to the new layer and hand the mask over to Caleb. "After we get your image in we'll test it and see what happens."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Looks just like you," Caleb says. "I thought you couldn't wear masks of yourself. Like, why disguise yourself as yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
You regard yourself in the mirror with a frown. The mask had vanished into your face without knocking you out. "It must be because there are other disguises in the mask. I'm not picking anything up from your mind strip, though. Lemme see the book again." You frown over the spell, then turn the page. Again, the reverse is blank, but the following page has something brand new: one of those weirdly shifting pictures like on the title page. It shows a face with a hand sliding across the brow. You mimic the gesture, and feel goose bumps.<br/>
<br/>
Keith and Caleb jump back. "Whoa, presto-chango!" the latter exclaims. You look in the mirror, and Keith looks back at you. "<i>That</i> could be really useful in some situations," Caleb says, grinning over your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"No memory strip, so no memories," you mutter. "Let's try—" The change is almost instantaneous. Caleb's eyes nearly pop from his head, and you quickly mimic the expression. "Oh yeah. Memories there for sure." You punch him in the chest. "So that's where that one porn magazine of mine went." You flick at your forehead, and your own body form reappears. You pull the mask off. <br/>
<br/>
"You know, with one of these it would be really easy just to surf though a bunch of heads," you muse.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211212121
author_id: seuzz
title: Keith's Double Trouble
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not meeting Kim until late on Saturday afternoon, so you horn in on Keith by offering to give him a ride out to his first target. He's not alone when you pick him up, though. He's hanging out with some blonde guy, and the latter jumps into the cab of your truck as though he's been invited too. "Where to, gents," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"D &amp; Q Salvage Yard," Keith says. He sniggers. "Kinda fitting, right, since we're doing a reclamation?"<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever," you reply, nudging him to watch his mouth. "Just as long as you know where we're going."<br/>
<br/>
"It's out by the old armory," the blonde guy says. "You shoulda called ahead. They might not have what you're looking for."<br/>
<br/>
"You could've mentioned that before," Keith retorts. "I thought you said that's where he spends his weekends."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you know how it is," the blonde guy replies in a careless manner. <br/>
<br/>
You look past Keith to his friend and give him a penetrating look. He just grins back easily at you, and you return your attention to the road. "So, you figured things out in a hurry, didn't you?" you observe to Keith.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. I met this guy here at a party last night—"<br/>
<br/>
"Since when do you go to parties?"<br/>
<br/>
"Since I decided I needed to get out more," he snaps. "Anyway, he's just been all kinds of help. He goes to Eastman, you know."<br/>
<br/>
The guy drapes an arm around Keith's neck. "He fell in love with me the moment he saw me. Of course, afterward I had to tell him why he really didn't want to get into my pants, but I told him I could get him into the basketball team pretty easily, so it all worked out." He laughs as Keith twists out of his light embrace.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, it's like that," you say. You give Keith's mental duplicate another appraising look-over. "He's very pretty, isn't he? You make a cute couple."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Keith says. "He was talking to everyone at the party, so I figured he'd be useful for getting into people."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I'm real popular," the guy says. "But why your first thought was that I could get you into a basketball player, instead of getting you into a girl, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you say your name was?" you ask him waspishly.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't. But it's Adam Karter."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
D &amp; Q Salvage Yard is quite large, but Karter knows his way around, and insouciantly leads you and Keith deep into its bowels. In the back, hidden behind lots scrap and other junk, he leads you to a tall teenager who's sanding rust off some machinery. "Yo, Dutoit," he calls. "Don't you ever get tired of polishing your junk?"<br/>
<br/>
The dark-haired guy straightens up and gives Karter a sour smile and a nod. "'Sup with you, Karter? Lemme grab a fresh bit of sandpaper and I'll happily polish <i>your</i> junk for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Dutoit likes it rough," Karter grins at Keith. "So he's always looking at me to rev his engine." He runs a palm lightly over the pipe work his friend was attacking. "Your touch got her purring yet?"<br/>
<br/>
"She's a bitch, but she'll turn over real pretty after I wear her down." Dutoit nods at you and your friend. "So who are your new playmates?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just some assholes who fell hard for my baby blues. Seriously, though, Tilley here is looking for a little game of pick-up basketball player, and I thought of you."<br/>
<br/>
"The old man's got me tied up all afternoon," Dutoit grumbles. "After five I could turn loose."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, it'd be better to do it here." Karter turns to Keith. "Toss me that headband you're carrying."<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks confused, and during the ensuing silence Dutoit speaks again. "This isn't a blacktop, Karter."<br/>
<br/>
"I know what it's not," Karter says. "You're not listening. You're not listening either, Tilley," he adds waspishly to Keith. The latter blinks, and slowly pulls a metal band from his pocket and tosses it to Karter.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about," Dutoit asks peevishly. "I've got things to do." <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know. I'm here to relieve you of your cares and worries. Everything else, too. Check it out." Before Dutoit can duck he slaps the band onto his forehead—quite a stretch, since the guy is a full head taller than him.<br/>
<br/>
You feel yourself choke, and Keith also makes a noise. But Karter just smiles serenely. Dutoit blinks and looks around, then rubs his knuckle on the side of his head. "Kind of a rush, innit?" Karter sniggers.<br/>
<br/>
"We were supposed to use the mask on him," Keith shouts. "You fucking moron!"<br/>
<br/>
"Keep your shirt on," Karter retorts. "Or, actually, take it off. You too, Dutoit. You guys are trading places."<br/>
<br/>
It takes you and the others a moment to catch up, but when you all do, the others start pulling off their clothes. "The whole 'jumping on people with masks' things is so last week," Karter observes. "Hell of a lot simpler this way, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I was going to use that thing on someone else," Keith complains. "Like, the coach, or someone else I wanted to control but not actually <i>be.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"And you <i>will</i> have it back," Karter retorts. "Just as soon as we get the masks made." He looks at you, jerks a thumb at Keith, and rolls his eyes.<br/>
<br/>
It <i>is</i> much quicker with a willing victim, though you can't resist puncturing Karter's cocky grin when, afterward, he bends over the recumbent Dutoit, pauses, and asks how you get an anima-band off a victim. "Jesus, and what if I told you <i>now</i> that you can't?"<br/>
<br/>
Karter's brilliant blue eyes freeze, then narrow.<br/>
<br/>
"Luckily, I <i>can</i> get it off," you add before he can say something cutting. You bend over Dutoit, think back to the sigil, and mutter the necessary phrase. "New mask now." Karter drops the mask of Tilley onto Dutoit before he can recover control of himself.<br/>
<br/>
"So what did I miss?" the new Keith asks. He looks up at Karter and frowns. "You're not Tilley."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not technically," Karter smirks. "Yo, Dutoit, get your shorts back on before your old man totters out and finds you ... Oh, never mind, I already used up all the junk jokes."<br/>
<br/>
Keith, now wearing the form of one Eastman's basketball players, unbends to his full height and glowers down at the three of you. "Fuck. This'd be a lot nicer if I didn't have a shitload of work to do. And if I didn't have you three jerkoffs getting in the way."<br/>
<br/>
"Just think of the fun you'll have later," Karter says. "Brett's just a stop-over. I bet I know who you'll be targeting next, and I bet his initials are J.S."<br/>
<br/>
Dutoit frowns for a moment, and then his eyes widen. "Oh, <i>shit!</i>" he exclaims. He turns on you with a gloating stare. "You should be kicking yourself so hard for not taking Eastman."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drop the Keith golem off back at Tilley's house; to your surprise, Karter jumps back into the truck with you. "Where are we going now?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"To take you back home. I've got things to do."<br/>
<br/>
"I'd rather hang out with you."<br/>
<br/>
"The feeling isn't mutual. At least, can you stop acting like this asshole and act like Keith?"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, alright," he laughs. "So, if I'm going to act like Tilley I need to ask when you're gonna get me a couple of masks so <i>I</i> can play."<br/>
<br/>
You resist—barely—the urge to bang your forehead against the steering wheel.<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon, I'm serious. How come you three guys get to play with the masks but I don't? I'm just as much Tilley as he is."<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not. He's the original. You're just some jackass he grabbed to make things easier."<br/>
<br/>
"That doesn't make me a golem. It's like, what if you got stuck inside a mask and couldn't get out? And Tilley and Johansson told you to fuck off because, you know, you weren't really you."<br/>
<br/>
"But you're <i>not</i>Tilley!"<br/>
<br/>
"But it <i>feels</i> like I am!" He sighs. "I'm trying to make the best of the situation, dude. Karter here has a lot of good things—he's banging girls constantly—but his home life is a shit hole. Just gimme a set of masks so I can get out of it every once in a while."<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"I did. He's like you. He told me to fuck off, and he wasn't nice about it like you were." He folds his arms and broods. "Cocksucker really does think I'm like a golem or something."<br/>
<br/>
"It's Keith's business because Eastman is his territory. Wear him down."<br/>
<br/>
Karter cocks an eyebrow. "You really gonna let him run around without adult supervision? Johansson can handle this shit. Tilley, I'm not so sure about. He'll fuck it up."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you were just like him," you retort. "So how come you're pissing on him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because I got Karter's brain now, too. Dude's sharp. I got Tilley's brain in here too, which makes it real easy to see right through it." He grips your shoulder. "You <i>need</i> an ally in Eastman, just to keep an eye on your friend and make sure he doesn't get in a shitload of trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go fucking around in Keith's territory. It's part of the deal."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you need <i>me</i> to be your friend too. I'm not gonna double-cross him or anything, because <i>I am Keith Tilley</i>—in here, where it counts. But I can also keep a good eye on him for you because I've got a distance he doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, then. Keep an eye on him and don't let him get in trouble."<br/>
<br/>
"But for that I'll need a mask, so I can keep close to him without it looking like I'm spying on him. Even though, well, kind of I would be."</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112121211
author_id: seuzz
title: Kim's Buffet o' Bodies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If I tell you yes, will you go away?"<br/>
<br/>
"Until you need me, sure." He drums the dashboard lightly. "Where are you off to now?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm meeting someone at the library." You ignore his inquiring glance. "So where can I drop you off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Downtown is fine. Spot me cab fare to get home from there?"<br/>
<br/>
You grumble but pull out a five for him. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You don't see Kim anywhere when you get to the library, but you do see Mark Kinley and an African-American girl, Danielle, that you vaguely know. It bothers you a bit to find them there: knowing Kim, she'll get distracted by them when she comes in. And sure enough, even though you take a table that's in plain sight of the door, Kim just gives you a quick wave when she comes in and goes straight over to their table. A few minutes later she beckons you over, and you find that she's unpacked her bag and taken up a seat with them. But you hide your irritation and join.<br/>
<br/>
"You've got Fernandez for History, right?" she says. "We've pulled together a little study group."<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't really planning on studying history today," you say slowly while staring meaningfully at her, but she ignores you.<br/>
<br/>
"If you could put a hex on Fernandez, you'd be a school hero," Danielle says. You bite your lip, and she smiles warmly. "I'm just teasing."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe, but not everyone's just 'teasing' when they say things like that." You shift restlessly in your chair. "It's getting a little old."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, lighten up," Mark says. "You're a man of mystery. I'd roll with it."<br/>
<br/>
"Can we talk about someone else?" You look over at Kim. "You like minding everyone's business. Who else has an interesting life?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a gossip," she grumbles. "But Ricky Golia's just landed an internship at Fred Dayton's office for next summer."<br/>
<br/>
"In Washington?" Danielle's eyes widen.<br/>
<br/>
"Do I detect a note of jealousy from you, Kim?" Mark grins. "I heard you beat Golia by only three votes in the student president race."<br/>
<br/>
"Because I put 111% into the election to his 110%," Kim retorts. "If he wasn't busy schmoozing with the congressman's chief of staff he could've taken it from me."<br/>
<br/>
"Or <i>you</i> could have taken the internship from <i>him.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Dayton's a Republican," Kim sniffs. "If we'd elected a Democrat I'd have been student body president <i>and</i> have the internship. People in this district are so backwards."<br/>
<br/>
"Careful," Mark snickers. "Danielle's a Republican."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Danielle says, and nudges him hard.<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "A minority in a minority. It's gotta suck."<br/>
<br/>
"My family's been Republican since Lincoln," she replies. "We don't fall for fads."<br/>
<br/>
"It must be nice being able to do what your family says," Mark smiles. "My dad's a socialist and my mom voted for Pat Robertson. Where's William Jennings Bryan when you need him?" You and the other two look at him blankly. "What? Oh, I guess that means <i>I</i> should be in charge of this little study group."<br/>
<br/>
You don't have a book, so you just listen with polite impatience as the others start going over the material. Mark and Danielle do most of the talking and bantering; Kim jumps in a couple of times to stir things up when they get too serious about the material. After a little while you find yourself relaxing. Kinley has a brain and a quick grin and knows how to use them; Danielle is sharp but her jabs don't draw blood. <br/>
<br/>
After about ninety minutes, Mark says he has to call things off. "I got a church recital I have to practice for." He mimes some fancy finger work on an air trumpet.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought those snake-handlers you hang out with didn't go for church music," Danielle teases.<br/>
<br/>
Mark laughs. "First time I've ever heard the Unitarians referred to as 'snake-handlers'. Gotta say, that place is so ... Oh, what's the word? Cold and empty and pointless, it's gonna be weird playing 'Let the Bright Seraphim' there."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's singing?" Danielle asks. "Oh, is that that thing Dr. Swinton's giving this weekend?" Mark nods. "Whoa. Didn't she used to sing for the Met?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think she only auditioned, but she did get a call back."<br/>
<br/>
"That's still pretty impressive," Kim enthuses, jumping in. "And she's got you accompanying her? Wow. What about you two?" She points between them. "Have you two ever done a duet?"<br/>
<br/>
They both stare at her and then burst out laughing; an old lady pops her head up from the periodical section and glares at your table. "I don't know many duets for bassoon and trumpet," Mark chortles as he tries to stifle himself. "At least I can't think of any." He looks over thoughtfully at Danielle. "Maybe I should ask."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Danielle hangs out for a little longer after Kinley leaves, and then says her goodbyes as well. Afterward, you and Kim regard each other with bemusement for a few minutes. "So, was that supposed to be a show room tour or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're a cute couple, aren't they?" Kim dimples. "Or, they could be, if they were together." Her eyes twinkle. "You could put them together."<br/>
<br/>
Danielle, with her smooth, chocolate-colored skin, slim hips and legs, small but firm breasts ... You'd also noticed the way all her teeth flashed into view when she smiled even a little. Physically, Mark is unimpressive: sandy hair cut short and curling close to the skull, hazel eyes, a fair zit problem and a bit of a paunch. But he does dazzle on the trumpet, and his intelligence and humor make it easy for him to dominate a social group. <br/>
<br/>
"Are they the only ones you picked out for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I mentioned Ricky Golia. He's got that internship, and he's dating Amanda Ferguson."<br/>
<br/>
"She's kind of scary."<br/>
<br/>
"How do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"She treats me like an idiot in class."<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>are</i> an idiot in class. But Ricky can handle her. They're not, like, all over each other in school, but I know for a fact they're fucking each other outside of school like no one's business."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmmm."<br/>
<br/>
"There's also Justin Roth."<br/>
<br/>
"Who? Oh, wait, yeah. I think I had a math class with him last year. Isn't he like one of the guys who's into drugs and stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know he hangs out with that group and I think he gets wasted a lot. But he's really into outdoors stuff. Camping, hiking. Fly fishing. He goes hunting every season."<br/>
<br/>
"I was never into hunting."<br/>
<br/>
"No, this guy goes out into the middle of nowhere. Like, he hikes twenty or thirty miles into wilderness areas and spends days tracking deer and elk and things like that. And he uses a bow and arrow."<br/>
<br/>
"What is he, a fucking Indian?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno. But he's really cute and he's got great legs."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a queer look. All through the study session she was acting just like Kim would, and even now you have concentrate to remember that she's walking around with Keith's "anima" inside her. It sends your mind reeling back to your conversation with Karter.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you ... happy ... being—" You point to her and lower your voice. "Being inside Kim?"<br/>
<br/>
She blinks and shrugs. "Well, it's okay, I guess. I mean, if you were going to put me inside anyone I'd rather it be one of the Garner twins, or inside someone who was fucking one of the Garner twins. Except—" She frowns. "Except I'm not really inside anyone, right? Technically, I'm just Kim, but I've got this ... delusion that I'm really Keith. I mean, that's the way you explained it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But, like, do you want me to get you a mask so you can be someone else while being Kim? Like, be one of the Garner twins?"<br/>
<br/>
She hesitates over her answer. "That would be kind of weird, wouldn't it?" She sits back and folds her arms. "I guess Kim is so happy with who she is that she doesn't really want to take over someone else's life."<br/>
<br/>
"What about the Keith part of you? That's the part that should be in the driver's seat."<br/>
<br/>
Again she thinks a long time. "I guess Kim's personality kind of holds me back," she says with a tone of helplessness.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye turns inward, and your preoccupation is such that Kim, after watching you awhile, turns to quietly put her notes in better order. You're struck by how different Kim and Karter, who both have Keith's anima-bands inside them, seem to be acting. You weren't much surprised that Karter was so keen to get a mask, since Keith has been pretty keen on the mask-thing; and so you'd assumed Karter's personality was just masking Keith's own drives. But Kim ...<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't seem that Kim's persona has overwhelmed Keith's—otherwise, she would be horrified over what you did to her. But Keith's persona does seem to have completely taken on Kim's coloration, even to the point of losing serious interest in swapping places with anyone.<br/>
<br/>
There's no way of getting "inside" the Keith-addled Kim (or the Keith-addled Karter) to see what exactly is going on, and you finally drift to the conclusion that Kim's life really is so happy that "Keith" is oddly content inside her. You find yourself eyeing her closely. You wanted an "interesting" person; maybe Kim Walsh is interesting in the way you're curious to explore.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121212112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Omnipresent Adam Karter
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your brother, Robert, is out front when you get home, and you're more than a little irritated to see that he's not alone: Adam Karter, who you thought you'd shaken off, is with him. They're tossing around a basketball and trying to score points off the rarely used hoop that hangs forlornly over the garage door. "Park in the street," Karter calls after you've turned off the engine. "You're blocking the court."<br/>
<br/>
"There's an old school yard with a blacktop a couple of blocks away," you retort. "You know that."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you weren't headed over there, were you," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Which makes it the perfect place for you guys." You give Robert a dirty look as well, for good measure.<br/>
<br/>
"Will stinks at basketball," Robert jumps in.<br/>
<br/>
"So do you." You feel your choler rising. <br/>
<br/>
"C'mon," Karter taunts, and tosses the ball at you. "If you don't play, you can't lose."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and why would I want to lose?"<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly. That's the smart thing to do, isn't it?" His grin is sharp. "Why risk humiliation by losing when you're guaranteed humiliation by being a fag and sitting it out?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just lemme put on some shorts," you snap. <br/>
<br/>
Karter laughs, but it's not a mean laugh. He turns to Robert and cocks his head. "Race you there." Your brother chases after him like a puppy.<br/>
<br/>
You're well aware that you're being manipulated, but you can also tell that Karter isn't the type to take no for an answer. Your mood—which wasn't a good one—blackens perceptibly. You change upstairs, but you're in no hurry to give Karter the satisfaction of showing up, so you call Caleb. "Where are you hanging out tomorrow?" you ask him.<br/>
<br/>
"Um, that kind of depends on which Caleb you're talking to, doesn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
You curse. "I don't want to talk to a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you better call Blackwell's number and ask the guy who answers. You've got a fifty-fifty chance of not getting a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus." You slap the phone shut. The shifts have just started, and already it's getting way too complicated. You'll just call again tomorrow after church.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
At the old school yard you have to make a team with your brother, and Karter still beats you guys handily. "Do you play for Eastman?" Robert asks him afterward. Karter was needling you all during play, and between that and his friendly, jesting encouragement of Robert he has your brother completely in his back pocket. <br/>
<br/>
"Nah, but I hang out with a lot of guys on the team, and they taught me a lot. Here, watch this." He slams the ball hard onto the blacktop, and it bounces and soars in a graceful arc to swish easily through the hoop. "Now you try."<br/>
<br/>
Robert eagerly takes the ball, but naturally he misses badly. He chases after the runaway ball and comes back for another go, and Karter gives him some careful, encouraging advice. While your brother continues to try—and fail—to replicate the trick, Karter pulls you off to the side. "You don't have to hang out here if you don't want to, and I can tell you don't want to," he says mildly. "I'm an asshole but I'm not a jerk." His gaze is open and his smile sweet as he turns from Robert to you. "I can keep him out of your hair as long as you want."<br/>
<br/>
"I just hide in my room," you shrug.<br/>
<br/>
"Not a bad plan. I'm not gonna start hanging out at your place. Aim at a spot a little closer to your feet!" he calls to Robert. "I only showed up today to see if you've got a mask for me already."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin'-A, keep your shit together. It'll be a week at least. You're low priority."<br/>
<br/>
"I figured that, but I also figured there was no harm in asking. I <i>really</i> don't like my home life."<br/>
<br/>
"What exactly were you planning?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he says with a sigh. "I guess I should wait until Tilley has his guys all replaced, so I'd know where I should land. But I was gonna be myself during the days and hide out in the other guy at night."<br/>
<br/>
"Sounds reasonable."<br/>
<br/>
"You have any ideas of your own?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided. Anyway, who do you even know at Westside?"<br/>
<br/>
"I know a couple of people. Joe Ysleta??"<br/>
<br/>
"I took only one semester of Spanish."<br/>
<br/>
Karter snickers, and shouts some more advice at Robert. "His grandparents still live in Costa Rica, and he goes back there every summer. His girlfriend—" He groans. "Let's just say my world tilts by about 35 degrees when I see her."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know Joe?" He looks at you in surprise. "Well, anyway, you must know Victoria Rodriguez."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know who she is. Oh, now I know who this Joe guy is. She's kind of big in the hips, isn't she?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know how I'd take her?" Karter continues in a way that suggests he thinks he's answering your question. "I'd get myself a sturdy, stable stool, put it close to a wall, and do it sitting up with her riding my lap.  Arms around her lower back. Yeah, she's got big hips, but that means she wouldn't go anywhere while I was shoving myself all the way up inside her <i>hard.</i> Repeatedly."<br/>
<br/>
You are both so lost in this vision that it takes both of you a minute to realize that Robert has stopped and is staring at the two of you quizzically. "What are you guys talking about?" he shouts over at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh ..." you start.<br/>
<br/>
Karter nudges you. "I'll handle this. You can head home." He trots over to Robert. "Lemme show you how to slide it in real smooth there, sport."<br/>
<br/>
You shudder at the thought that Karter is about to give Robert a quick sex ed lesson, but he just starts showing the kid some more pointers while casually ignoring you. After a few minutes, you jog back home.<br/>
<br/>
An hour later, though, when Robert runs in, you make a point of asking him what he and Karter did after you left. He gets that guilty grin he can't hide when he's got a cool secret and says that he just kept playing basketball with him. You glance out your window in time to see Karter racing away from the house on a beat-up old dirt bike. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You drive out to Blackwell's house the next day after church, to discover that only the Blackwell golem is in residence. You swap out masks with it and send your own golem home to hold down the fort while you hide out in the library to do a little more research. To your irritation you find that the <i>Libras</i> is gone. Your guess that Keith, as the "king" of Eastman, has already taken possession of it is confirmed when the front door opens and Caleb comes in, accompanied by a tallish kid with white-blonde hair and a deep tan. You vaguely recognize him as another one of Eastman's basketball players. You cock an eyebrow. "Where's that Dutoit guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Back at his dad's hammering dents out of old car bodies," Keith replies. His smile is almost blinding. "You're gonna shit yourself when I tell you who this is."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm more interested in where you got a new mask so fast," you frown.<br/>
<br/>
"I gave him one of mine," Caleb says. "He called me up this morning and told me we wanted this new guy fast, and after he told me about him—"<br/>
<br/>
"We need any more stuff?" Keith interrupts. He dips a long hand into his cream-colored slacks and pulls out a roll of bills. "My treat." He peels off three hundred dollar bills and drops them lightly onto the table. "We stopped at the ATM on the way back so I could pick up a little spending money."<br/>
<br/>
"Holy fuck," you exclaim. "Who is this guy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Jonathan Straussler," Keith replies, holding out a hand. He moves very gracefully and confidently, almost like a panther. "When you guys are more presentable I'll have you over to the house. And if you get yourself a jock I'll take you up to my dad's ski lodge every other weekend once the snow starts. Except during winter break. I'll be at the condo on our private island in the Bahamas for two weeks."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus." You put your face on the desk. "Please tell me you're dating a girl at Westside." He just laughs. "Oh well," you sigh. "If I wanted money I'd suck it up and take Hartlein. Did you pick up the <i>Libras</i>? I wanted to check out a few things."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I got it at my new place. Like I say, make yourself presentable and I'll have you over whenever you want."<br/>
<br/>
"You have any ideas yet for who you're taking?" Caleb asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"No. You?" <br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "Monday I start doing research. I'm gonna call students in all week for one-on-one conferences."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case, can I borrow your body this week? I've got some research of my own to do, and it would be easier to get close to people if I wasn't walking around with that goddamn hex hovering over me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind, but my mask is sealed up to make a golem. It has to obey me."<br/>
<br/>
"I was going to use that revolving mask we made Friday." <br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. Well then, sure. You wanna go home as me tonight? It would be easier if I just spent the night here ."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
To your immense chagrin, you find the persistent Adam Karter waiting at Caleb's when you arrive. You eye him carefully as you get out of Caleb's car. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Caleb," he says. "You don't know me. Well, you sort of do." He taps his forehead. "Keith Tilley stuck a little bit of himself right here."</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212211212121121
author_id: seuzz
title: Close Research
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I know who you are," you sigh. "We played basketball yesterday with my brother."<br/>
<br/>
He jumps and then laughs. "It's like you're stalking me," he chortles.<br/>
<br/>
"Like someone is stalking someone, I'll grant you that," you frown. "What the fuck is it now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I didn't want to bug <i>you</i>, so I thought I'd go see Caleb." You stare at him skeptically. "Okay, okay. I was going to give Caleb the same warning I gave you. This little mix up right now shows how easy it is for teammates to get confused. I didn't want to keep any secrets from Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"That's noble of you. I'll pass along the warning." <br/>
<br/>
You and he look at each other in silence a moment, then he gives your shoulder a friendly clap and takes up his bike. "I'll keep to myself until Friday, and check in with you then," he says, and pedals away.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you're not sure you will say anything to Caleb. You're sitting inside his head at the moment, after all, and you can tell he'd be very skeptical of Karter and think that whole "spy on Keith" idea a bad one. The simplest thing to do is let Karter keep an eye on Keith while you keep a sharp eye on Karter.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You keep an eye out in Caleb's classes for any of the people that Kim suggested to you yesterday. You're rewarded in third period English when (with the help of Caleb's own memories) you recognize Justin Roth slouching in the back. It's a rough, basic kind of class—Caleb has no interest in English or literature, so he never excelled—and there's no discipline or seating chart, so you slide into a seat next to Roth. You won't be taking up space from one of his friends: Caleb has noticed he never talks to anyone.<br/>
<br/>
"You think this class sucks as much as I do?" you mutter to him.<br/>
<br/>
He wears his dark hair long, draping down to his shoulders in loose curls, and his bangs hang just below his eyebrows; so it's only the shift of his head that tells you he has registered your complaint. He barely shrugs. <br/>
<br/>
"I mean, I had to read fucking <i>Tom Sawyer</i> in eighth grade," you continue. "It's bullshit having to read it again."<br/>
<br/>
"Twain's a great author," he murmurs in a rich baritone. "Maybe you shoulda studied harder so you could get into an AP class."<br/>
<br/>
"I was doing chemistry and physics and computer science," you retort. "What's your excuse?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's an easy grade." He folds his arms tightly around his chest, and you see he's clutching a paperback, but his fingers obscure the cover title.<br/>
<br/>
"You getting an A?" you frown.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm failing. It's the easiest grade to get."<br/>
<br/>
Huh. "What are you reading?" His fingers twitch aside: <i>The Sacred Fount,</i> by Henry James. "Any good?"<br/>
<br/>
"Makes Mark Twain look like a fucking hack."<br/>
<br/>
"Can I see it?"<br/>
<br/>
He grudgingly hands it over, and you open it to the page he has his finger stuck in. You read:<br/>
<br/>
<i> I saw other things, many things, after this, but I had already so much matter for reflection that I saw them almost in spite of myself. The difficulty with me was in the momentum already acquired by the act—as well as, doubtless, by the general habit—of observation. I remember indeed that on separating from Mrs. Brissenden I took a lively resolve to get rid of my ridiculous obsession. It was absurd to have consented to such immersion, intellectually speaking, in the affairs of other people. One had always affairs of one's own, and I was positively neglecting mine. Such, for a while, was my foremost reflection; after which, in their order or out of it, came an inevitable train of others. One of the first of these was that, frankly, my affairs were by this time pretty well used to my neglect. There were connections enough in which it had never failed. A whole cluster of such connections, effectually displacing the centre of interest, now surrounded me, and I was—though always but intellectually—drawn into their circle.</i><br/>
<br/>
The paragraph continues, but your eyes glaze over long before you get to the bottom of it. "Christ, you're reading this kind of stuff and you're in <i>this</i> class?" you ask him incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
He turns to look at you, and you have the distinct impression that he is retrieving his attention from very far away specially so he can daunt you. "I read 'cos I want to, not for a grade. Why do <i>you</i> read?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you do both?" you snark back, resenting his pretensions. "That's how come I read science books."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes flicker with interest. "You into science? What branches?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "The basics, I guess. Physics, chemistry. I horse around with a telescope my uncle gave me."<br/>
<br/>
His glance is intensely appraising. "Biology? Evolutionary theory?"<br/>
<br/>
"The basics. I'm not into anatomy, but genetics is pretty cool."<br/>
<br/>
Roth's glance loses none of its intensity, but it warms a little. He says nothing more, because Langdon starts talking at the front of the class at that moment. But he lingers after class and is agreeable when you suggest hanging out after school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Whatever else he is, Roth doesn't look "presentable" in the way Keith/Straussler probably meant: his clothes are sloppy and he himself is quite unkempt. But his outdoorsy side might make him minimally fit as an athlete. Ysleta, who you have in sixth period Marine Biology, is a different matter.<br/>
<br/>
You won't have a clear view of him from Caleb's seat on the other side of the room, but Tilley's golem is in there too, so you slap him lightly on the shoulder and lean in close to his ear. "Skip class. Go to the library," you hiss.<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't argue."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't afford any more absences in here."<br/>
<br/>
"You won't take one. I'm taking your place." He looks a bit baffled, but stumbles out of the room while leaving his stuff behind. You take a quick tour of the lab area, where you bend down behind a work station and brush your forehead two times. You have Tilley's face (though not his memories or his clothes, of course) when you re-emerge, and from his seat you have a clear, close view of Ysleta and his girlfriend, who sits in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
Joe is a burly guy—one of the "beefy" types Keith has been lobbying you to take, which is probably why Kim suggested him. His gray t-shirt pulls tight across his pecs and binds tightly to his biceps; his black hair is cut very short, and it and his mica-like eyes glisten. You quickly dismiss him from serious consideration—just a muscle head—despite the temptation represented by his girlfriend. He hunches forward all through class, delicately pulling at the braids of black hair that Victoria has draped over its writing surface. Only at the halfway point, when Mrs. Gambetta asks him if he's grooming her for fleas, does he push her locks away and sit back.<br/>
<br/>
Your own laughter at his discomfiture evaporates when the old bitch looks at you over the top of her glasses and asks you to describe the mating habits of the common squid. You've never taken marine biology, and you have neither Caleb's nor Keith's memories to guide you, so you can only stare like a deer in the headlights. "First, he asks her what her sign is," someone snickers behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Jackson," she says sharply, and turns back to you.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno?" you say helplessly.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you describe the squid's physical structure?"<br/>
<br/>
"A head and a bunch of legs?" More laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"How many?"<br/>
<br/>
"Eight?"<br/>
<br/>
She puts her face in her hands.<br/>
<br/>
It rebounds to your benefit, though, when she makes you and Ysleta both stay after class. It doesn't seem to be an uncommon occurrence with him, as he pulls out a notebook without asking for directions and starts writing. "If I get done in the next ten minutes," he asks her, "can I go?" To her raised eyebrow he explains, "I'm meeting my balloon team at four."<br/>
<br/>
"Balloon team?" you ask him after the teacher has explained that she wants you to sketch the taxonomy and draw the anatomy of the common squid. Gambetta has left the two of you alone.<br/>
<br/>
He glances back briefly at you. "I'm working with a hot air balloon team," he says brusquely. "We're supposed to do an ascent next weekend and we're sorting out the gear."<br/>
<br/>
Actually, that sounds like fun. You have a small tube of the mask-sealing varnish in your shirt pocket, enough for one seal. You'd brought it, of course, so you could quickly apply it and catch a new body image in the mask you're wearing if the chance arose. But you can only take one, and you've already kind of agreed to meet Roth.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122112121211212
author_id: seuzz
title: A Flirtation and a Crisis
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You probably won't get another chance real soon at grabbing a copy of Ysleta, so hurry into the back while it's just the two of you and pull off your mask. It takes only a minute to rub the sealant onto the inner surface, and a quick rub with your shirt polishes it up. You hurry back over to your victim and take him from behind.<br/>
<br/>
While he's unconscious face down on the desk you hustle your bags (your own and Keith's) into the back and then return to rifle through Ysleta's book bag to see if there is anything interesting. Books, a cell phone, iPad ... At the very bottom, though, you find a loose key which you pocket on a hunch. <br/>
<br/>
And as you straighten up to watch him for signs of the returning mask, Mrs. Gambetta walks back in.<br/>
<br/>
Her eye goes from you to the limp Joe Ysleta. "And what's happening here? Joe, are you finished yet?" She shakes him, but he doesn't respond. <br/>
<br/>
"I came in here and found him like this," is all you can croak out. She shakes him harder and then pulls his face up. You hold your breath, praying the mask doesn't reappear. <br/>
<br/>
"Go get Mr. Cash next door," she orders, and gives you a terrible look when you hesitate. Your heart pounding, you run to the next classroom and summon the head biology teacher.<br/>
<br/>
Joe is awake and blinking stupidly when you and Cash return, and you cringe to see the mask laying face down on the desk in front of him. "I dunno," he says stupidly to the teachers' queries. "I was just working, and suddenly it was like someone put a bag over my head." He frowns down at the mask. <br/>
<br/>
"Think you can stand up, son," Cash asks. <br/>
<br/>
He nods uncertainly, and touches the mask with his finger. "That's mine," you say in what you hope is a smooth voice. "I put it down next to you when I found you in here." He gives you a queer look, but doesn't resist as you take it up. You look between the two teachers, but they are concentrating on Joe and say nothing as you quietly return to the lab half of the classroom, where you reapply the mask to your own face, switch it to Caleb's features, and leave.<br/>
<br/>
You rendezvous with Keith long enough to return his stuff and warn him he's in big trouble with Gambetta.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb answers your holler when arrive at Blackwell's, but it turns out to just be the golem wearing Caleb's regular mask, so you send it back into the living room to continue polishing the newest batch of masks. In the downstairs bathroom you switch over to your acquisition. Ysleta's torso is too big for the shirt you're wearing, but it doesn't rip, just hugs you in a way that shows off the new muscles. You put on his easy grin, snap a photo of yourself in the mirror and send it to Straussler with a text message: "posbL nu l%k wadya tnk" While waiting for the answer you wander into the library, where Blackwell's laptop awaits. <br/>
<br/>
Your grin widens again, and you sit down at it and log in to Ysleta's Facebook page and other social sites to see what is new. You pause as you remember the url for one of them. Holy smokes: So that's what the key is for. You snicker to yourself, log in to the site, and laugh over the photos. Most of them are familiar, of course, which doesn't make the ones Ysleta appears in any less hilarious—or any less arousing to your borrowed psyche.<br/>
<br/>
Once your curiosity has been satisfied, you get onto his Skype account. Unless his sudden seizure has persuaded him to skip it—which it wouldn't—he will be out at Cornwallis Plantation, the wide stretch of bottomland by the river where the balloon team is gathering, which will make it quite safe to see if Victoria is—<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" she says as she slides in front of the computer's camera. "Oh, hey, honey," she smiles.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey yourself. God, you look good."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm a mess," she blushes and hides her face in her hands. Actually, she has clearly been primping, and is embarrassed at not having her preferred face all the way on.<br/>
<br/>
"Take your hands down, I wanna look at you."<br/>
<br/>
"No! I'm gonna close the computer."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want me lookin' at your face?" She shakes her head violently, and giggles. "Okay, how about this?" You hike your shirt up to expose one of your pecs. "Gimme one of those to look at." You blow her a smoky kiss. She bursts into gales of laughter, but only grins back at you through her fingers. ""C'mon. Just a flash."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't. You remember what happened the last time I did this for you over the computer. My folks caught me."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they home?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, no."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what's your excuse, you little tease?"<br/>
<br/>
She is crimson by this time, but she flips her blouse up high enough to expose the bottom of her bra. But at the same moment you feel a cold draught on the back of your neck and look around, expecting to see the golem. There's no one there, but she also apparently caught sight of something: "Is there someone there with you?" Her eyes narrow but her smile widens. "Have you got your pervert friends there?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm all alone here, baby, I swear," you laugh. "C'mon." You lift your shirt again and rub your right nipple softly. "Oooo, just show me a little."<br/>
<br/>
She still seems skeptical, and only slowly does she unbutton her blouse. "I thought you were going to the balloon rally thing."<br/>
<br/>
"There was a delay. But I had balloons on my mind, so, you know." You mime fondling a pair of enormous tits. <br/>
<br/>
She rolls her eyes, but she's got her blouse off by this point, and starts taking off her bra. "You better not take a screenshot of this," she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
You pull your hands away from the keyboard—you actually had your fingers hovering over the keys—and drop them into your lap. "Don't worry, baby, you got me stroking something else."<br/>
<br/>
"You are such a pervert," she says. She slips the bra off, and her breasts, which are huge and soft and taut drop down. She holds them up tenderly. "Now don't look at my face," she grins. "Look at these."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm hypnotized!" you laugh. They are magnificent, and you lean in to pant over them.<br/>
<br/>
And then you feel rather than see the arm reach over your shoulder. Victoria gasps and screams—loud and shrill—and the camera on her end goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
You leap to your feet and your chair crashes to the ground, and you have the momentary impression of a ghastly face near your own. Then you're blinking into empty air as your heart tries to hammer its way out of your chest.<br/>
<br/>
You try desperately to re-establish a connection with Victoria's computer, but even after several minutes there is nothing. Clearly she got an eyeful of the gwarcheidwad, and though you don't feel any particular responsibility to her, you at least do recognize that it's a bad idea to let her run around after having seen it.<br/>
<br/>
You're not so panicked, though, that you run off half-cocked. In the living room you give the golem no warning before twitching off its face, and you refill your tube with more resealing polish. You dump out your bag and fill it with those two items, along with one of Caleb's new mind strips, the second anima band you made, some knockout powder, Blackwell's special antiseptic, and one or two other items from his first aid kit. You badly wish you had a mind strip of his that you could use in dealing with this crisis.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Her car is the only one parked in front of her house, and the door is unlocked. You call but there is no answer. You follow noises coming from down at the end of the hallway, but pause at the sight of long scratches, as though dug by sharp daggers, running along the wall. <br/>
<br/>
The knob to her bedroom door turns, but a weight on the other side presses against it. "Victoria!" you call, and push. The weight disappears and you fall into the room. It is empty. Crack! comes the sound of shattering glass, and you turn to find her window imploded, and glass shards dropping softly onto the carpet. You have the impression of a shadow staining the air, but it's gone after you blink and shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
Inside the closet (the only hiding place in the room) you find Victoria huddled against the back wall, sobbing. She gasps and throws herself onto you. You hug her tightly, stroke her head and shush her.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, Joe," she cries. "What was that ... thing behind you?" You feel her shudder. "I saw it, and I ... I tried shutting the computer—" You glance behind you: her computer is on the ground with the screen twisted off at the hinges by its impact with the floor. "And then some ... <i>thing</i> got in the room."<br/>
<br/>
"It's okay, it's gone now, whatever it was." It wasn't the gwarcheidwad itself in the room, you're sure, only a shadow or fragment that somehow got through, and made a terrible furor as it tried to get back. But that is bad enough. <br/>
<br/>
You pull her onto the bed and sigh deeply. There is nothing here to fix, and you have no way of inducing amnesia in her. The afternoon's experience, and your running over here in the form of her boyfriend, won't be something that she and he will be able to ignore. She will talk to him about it tomorrow, and he won't have any idea what she's talking about, and things will go very badly after that.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's none of your business, really, right? No way to connect it to you. And the alternative, the only way to keep things from getting weird between them, would be even worse for her. On the other hand, you were nearly decided that you were going to make Joe one of your acquisitions, and Victoria would be a good acquisition to go with him ...</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221221121212112121
author_id: seuzz
title: Vicious Victoria
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You spare a quick thought of gratitude to Karter for the "anima band" trick as you slap it onto Victoria's forehead. She blinks and draws away from you. "Well, this is a kinky turn in our relationship," she grumbles. Yeah, that's Caleb talking.<br/>
<br/>
"It's just temporary. How long until Victoria's parents get home?"<br/>
<br/>
She looks at the clock. "Um, I dunno. An hour? Depends on how long her mother can stand being around her grandmother."<br/>
<br/>
"We should probably do it back at Blackwell's anyway. Can you drive?" She nods, and the two of you leave her house in separate cars.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb has returned in the meantime—Victoria grimaces when she sees him—and he gives the two of you a queer look until you flick at the mask to replace Ysleta's face with your own. "Have any luck finding a bod today?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't checked the new bands yet," he says. "But I picked the most likely prospects. Three guys and one really hot girl. What's up with this?" He jerks his head at Victoria. You give him the story. "You could've wound up with a worse one," he observes.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'm not real enthusiastic about it either," she sarcastically replies. "Can we get this over with? This is kind of weird."<br/>
<br/>
So you take her up to the workroom, use the materials to attach the blank mind band to a blank mask, and then pull the anima-band from her long enough to settle the new mask on her face. While she's unconscious you strip her of her clothes and divest yourself of Caleb's; when she's recovered, you put Caleb's regular mask on her. As you golemize the inside of the Victoria mask, his phone chirps, and the golem cocks his head at the message that has come through. "The fuck is this?"<br/>
<br/>
You glance over to see it's a one-word reply from Straussler: "phat"; nice to know he approves of Ysleta, you guess. "Go tell your boss I'll be down in a bit," you tell the Caleb-golem. "I gotta change."<br/>
<br/>
Once he's gone you retreat into the next room, with its mirror, and apply Victoria's mask to your face. Your first thought, when you awake, is the grimly startling image of a thing with a single blazing eye and too many teeth to count looming out of a computer screen. It makes you tremble, but you're able to put it mostly out of your mind as you regard your new self in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
Victoria is, one might say, an "ample" girl. You lift and admire your large breasts, which are heavy and hard to keep balanced in your cupped hands; your nipples tingle in the cool air, and you twinge pleasurably as you touch them. You have a belly, but you wouldn't call your new body "fat"; it just balances comfortably on your wide hips. Your thighs are also quite big. But there is something very pleasing in how all your features go together, and you turn around slowly before the mirror and pull your long, dark hair around the bottom of your face and giggle shyly. You hug yourself, and your memories drift back to Joe, and his skill at finding places to touch and hold you. <br/>
<br/>
Well, there will be time enough for dreaming tonight. You pull on panties and stockings and wedge your breasts into the bra; you button up your white blouse, which clasps tightly around all your curves; and you zip up the short black skirt. Last to go on are the ankle-length boots; and then it takes you another ten minutes to get her necklaces and bracelets on and to pull back some of her hair into three thin ponytails and secure the rest with barrettes. You give yourself one last appraising look, then gather up your purse and walk confidently downstairs. <br/>
<br/>
Caleb is alone in the library, and there is something in the way his eyes gleam that says he is not quite himself. "You've got someone inside you, don't you?" you tease. "I can see you undressing me with your eyes."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm doing more than that, honey," he says. He pats his lap. <br/>
<br/>
"Mmmm." You cross over to him, straddle his lap, put your arms around his neck, and lean in for a kiss. He is much better than you'd ever give him credit for—slow, confident, muscular—and you are soon both making hungry noises.<br/>
<br/>
"We could do it, you know," he says when you finally break away. "Upstairs, in Blackwell's bed."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh uh," you say, and stand with more reluctance than you wish you felt. "I have to get home. There's probably a bazillion messages waiting for me." You feel his eyes on your ass as you leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Faith Becker thinks she's pregnant again," Deanna Showalter says. Your lip curls, leaving an unsightly line of lipstick. You wipe it away and lean in closer to the bathroom mirror to reapply the lipstick.<br/>
<br/>
At the next sink Vanessa Bailey drops her eyeliner back in her case and rummages noisily for another item. "Gawd, what does that make it, her fourth scare?"<br/>
<br/>
Molly Shaw looks over your shoulder and fluffs her hair in the mirror. "Someone should tell her you can't get pregnant by giving head." She catches your eye, and you return her malicious twinkle with one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
"Someone should punch her in the stomach and tell her that's the way they used to cause miscarriages," you say. You press your lips together to spread the dark purple lipstick evenly. "Or maybe I'll just push her down the stairs myself."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't be such a bitch," Deanna says.<br/>
<br/>
"She's just looking for sympathy." You twist the lipstick shut and undo one of your ponytails so you can comb it out.<br/>
<br/>
"It's bad enough you took Joe away from her."<br/>
<br/>
You give Deanna a contemptuous stare. "I just told him she was faking that pregnancy. And sure enough, two months later she was saying Joshua had knocked her up." You turn back to the mirror. "Joshua asked Joey if she really had an abortion, and you know what Joey said?" No one answers; it's an old story. "He said she had such a sloppy cunt it was disgusting and he couldn't touch her. Which I totally believe. That's how come she has to give them all head." You twist the ends of the pony tail together and tie them down.<br/>
<br/>
Gloria Rea walks in, and the conversation lapses. The cheerleader—one of Chelsea Cooper's foot soldiers—pushes Vanessa aside so she can preen in the mirror. Vanessa glares at her sullenly, but moves over to Deanna's station. <br/>
<br/>
"So who does Faith say did it to her this time?" you ask in a loud voice. Gloria pretends to pay no heed, but you can tell she's eavesdropping hungrily. No one says anything, which tells you that you've gone too far; still, Gloria will carry even that little bit back to Chelsea, which should make life more fun for Faith.<br/>
<br/>
You can't suppress a little smirk in the mirror after the others have left, leaving you to finish your lunchtime primping. You yourself have nothing against Faith Becker, of course, though she is one of the more hysterical drama queens in the school. It's the little feuds and the little fashion rivalries; the little dramas and the obsessive little interests in who is doing what to whom. It's all so trivial, and yet so fascinating to play with from inside a little circle of backscratchers and backstabbers—and far more interesting than the old talks you used to have with Caleb and Keith about what was on The Discovery Channel the night before.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Joey, I want a baby," you coo. He stiffens, but you nestle more tightly against his shoulder. "Put a little baby in me." <br/>
<br/>
He grunts, and you don't have to look up to know he's probably got a panicked smile curling feebly across his face. It's Thursday after school, and you're sitting in the backseat of his car, down by the river, and if you looked out the window you could see a half-dozen other cars parked out in a line. Other couples, arms around waists, will be strolling along the gentle curve of the river bank. It's the place to be seen with your hot boyfriend or girlfriend.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you want to give me a little baby?" you say, putting a whine in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, it's a little soon to be thinking about something like that, isn't it?" he croaks.<br/>
<br/>
You look up and—sure enough—there's that adorable grin. "I just want a little baby," you sniff.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you have, like, a little nephew or something you can play with?"<br/>
<br/>
You stroke the tent in his jeans. "If I get you excited, will you give me a baby?"<br/>
<br/>
"C'mon," he says, and shifts. "Don't do that."<br/>
<br/>
"You could give me a baby right now. You could let out your little guy, and I could take off my panties—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Jesus," he exclaims, but you've pulled his zipper down and are rooting around the front of his boxers. You pull his cock out, but he's frightened enough by the conversation that it's very limp. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, Joey, I've never wanted you more badly than right now," you moan. You throw a knee across his lap; you grip the back of his neck with one hand and put your other hand up your skirt to tug at your panties. "Just touch me with your cock. Just touch me right there." Out the back window you see Adrian Semple and Mindy McAdams walking by. She glances over, and you give her a dirty look; she flinches.<br/>
<br/>
"Victoria, c'mon on, baby," Joe says in a muffled voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine," you snarl. "You wanna wear something, I brought something you can wear." You pull the new mask from your purse and cram it over his face.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222
author_id: seuzz
title: New Information
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Melody Weiss proves to be a thin, pinched-looking the girl, the sort who probably organizes her social life around the library, and not because there's a cute work-study student at the checkout desk. She looks shiftily between you and the Gothic-type decor of Blackwell's library.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know why he said I was looking for Lucy," she says bluntly when you tell her what Blackwell said. "I was doing my research for <i>him.</i> He called me up last night and asked for an update, and then told me to pass it along to Lucy. Who are you again?"<br/>
<br/>
"Another research assistant, I guess." You take a chance. "If you give your stuff to me I can pass it along to Lucy when I see her."<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs and starts tugging a notebook from her backpack. "I was supposed to give it to Lucy directly, but I don't give a fuck. Here."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you tell me what it's all about?" The notes she hands over to you don't mean much at first glance, and you pass them over to Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Old estate records from England," she says brusquely. "Blackwell had me tracking down some antiquities that belonged to a duke back in the eighteenth century." She tells you a little more, but it doesn't sound like anything to do with the <i>Libra</i> until she mentions a collection of masks.<br/>
<br/>
"I think he's got me doing research on the other end of this," you tell her. "What happened to these masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Probably locked away in the Tower of London. They were at the center of some hushed-up political scandal during the reign of George I. All the records were burned, but this duke was one of the investigators. He might have kept them as a souvenir."<br/>
<br/>
You're about to dismiss her with your thanks when you feel a gentle nudge in your ribs from Will. He brushes past you and Melody, and behind her back casts a meaningful glance over his shoulder. You buy a moment's time by asking Melody to expand upon one of the comments she'd made about the masks, and then the golem calls you from the kitchen, requesting your help.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" you mutter when you catch up to it. It points to a paragraph in Melody's notes, about the aftermath of that political scandal. It contains a reference to a book being pilfered from the duke's library upon his death, and from its description it sounds like it was the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Ten to one that's what Blackwell is really interested in, the history of the book," your golem says. <br/>
<br/>
"Why? He's already got it in hand."<br/>
<br/>
"But he wants to know where it's been and what it's touched. What it's been used for."<br/>
<br/>
You point to the paragraph. "It's just a footnote in her report."<br/>
<br/>
"Then he's after <i>other</i> stuff, stuff we don't even suspect is out there. Or she's not telling him everything she's learned. Either way, I wanna know more -- or, I guess, <i>you</i> wanna know more. And once Blackwell is back in town we'll lose our connection to this girl and what she knows and what she'll find out for him."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a devious son of a bitch, Prescott," you say, for you know exactly what he is proposing.<br/>
<br/>
Using your new mask on Melody Weiss might be a waste of a precious resource -- you will certainly have to golemize it -- but it might score you an even more valuable resource: a spy on Blackwell</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221
author_id: seuzz
title: Old Scandals and New Discoveries
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>In the library, Melody is growing restless -- you don't blame her one bit -- but you keep her distracted by telling her that "Will" is fetching some money that Blackwell left for her. When he returns, you smoothly seize her and he presses the mask to her face; when it reappears you coat its insides with some of the remaining golem-skin goop and put it back on the still-unconscious Melody. It would be quicker to put the mask to your own face, but you need to do something with the real Melody, and this is the only way of hiding her.<br/>
<br/>
So it is Melody-wearing-a-Melody-disguise who wakes up, albeit a Melody who is now your mostly willing assistant. Her personality shows virtually no change after her awakening, except for a slightly resentful air of not wanting to answer your questions. She also pesters you with questions of her own as you once again go over her notes and her story.<br/>
<br/>
Her research revolved around a juicy tale of intrigue and skullduggery in high places during the reign of George I of England. You soon become lost in a blizzard of names as she warms to her narrative. "Infernal devices" of "magick" and "devilry" were ascribed to a low-ranked courtier who had come over with the new king from Hanover. Two people, including a "French sorcerer," were burned at the stake, though their exact identities are shrouded in mystery. A detailed report was drawn up and shown to the king, who reportedly had it burned as well; a wholesale reshuffling of ministry personnel ensued. A commission oversaw the final destruction of all the magical implements, though a list and description of them was kept in the most secret royal archives. That, supposedly, was the end.<br/>
<br/>
Until fifty years later, when the last commissioner, the Duke of Devonshire, died. A catalog was made of his immense collection, and it was discovered that several items found in a secret room in his library answered to descriptions of items that had been destroyed at the end of that old investigation. The identity of the items was never definitely proven, for they disappeared before a proper inquest could be launched; a long-time servant vanished at the same time.  "What were the things that disappeared?" you ask Melody.<br/>
<br/>
She describes the book that sounds like the <i>Libra</i> and a few other items that don't sound familiar. Your twin, meanwhile, has been quietly ransacking other parts of the house, and he calls from upstairs, where you find him in the workroom. "Lookit what I found under the bench," he says, pointing to the book. "And lookit where he had it open to."<br/>
<br/>
You glance at the book and then glare at Will; the book is not in English. But Melody, who has followed you, is peering over your shoulder. "It's about a witch trial in 16th century Saxony," she says. <br/>
<br/>
You look at her in surprise. "You know German?"<br/>
<br/>
"German. Latin. French. Spanish. A smattering of Danish." She shrugs. "I've always been good at languages."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's it say?" She takes it from you, reads it through, and gives you a paraphrase: Basically, a woman was accused of replacing several people in her village with simulacra. She then killed the local noble's wife and was caught trying to sneak into his estate. Before she was burnt at the stake, the witch cursed the Inquisitors who had stopped her just short of unlocking the secret of "the absolute power of eternal health and beauty." As she burned, the simulacra in the town "shed their false visages and became as the clay of the earth."<br/>
<br/>
"What was the witch's name?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
Melody peers through the text. "It's a little ambiguous," she says. "It keeps referring to her as 'Schablonenmann,' which seems more like a name than an occupation. But it's an odd name." She frowns. "The simulacra are also 'Schablonenmann,' so it's hard to know what is going on there."<br/>
<br/>
"Does 'Shabbleman' mean anything to you?" Wills asks her.<br/>
<br/>
You jump at the familiar name, but Melody shakes her head, and to answer your puzzled glance points to the notation in the margin of the page, which is what had undoubtedly what caught Will's attention: "Schablonenmann = Shabbleman?" "That's Blackwell's handwriting," she sniffs.<br/>
<br/>
"Shabbleman," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Will says sourly. "That was great-grandma's maiden name." He gives Melody an unhappy look. "We got cousins named that, still." He shudders.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You find nothing more of obvious interest, and soon send Melody on her way with orders to continue her research with special concentration on that Saxon witch-trial. ("Could it be connected to that witch business with George I?" you ask her. She gives you a withering look. "George I came from Hanover, and Hanover is <i>in</i> Lower Saxony.") She is to give you all her information before she passes any more on to Blackwell. "And if Blackwell asks, tell him you couldn't find Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
That still leaves you with Lucy herself to dispose of. You're less inclined now to stage an accident, though, because you really want to find a way into her mask. You and Will return to the library, where you work until the sun has begun to fail.<br/>
<br/>
The "Eureka!" moment comes when you raise your head and stretch your muscles, glancing up from the golem-seal sigil you'd been patiently deconstructing and examining. Your eye falls on a copy of the mind-strip sigil that your twin had made during his studies. Irritably, you're about to snap at him for making some elementary mistakes when you catch yourself: No, he has done it correctly. It only looks wrong because you'd been studying a superficially similar set of elements in the golem-shell spell. You lay the two sigils side by side and compare them with mounting excitement.<br/>
<br/>
"Look at this!" you beckon to your other self. "Both these parts of the sigils are supposed to copy over the mind of the target. But they are structured differently."<br/>
<br/>
He studies them, then shrugs. "Of course they're different. The mind strip only has to copy over a single mind. The golem-shell has to integrate the essence of the spellcaster into the mind strip of the mask. Those are two different tasks. Kinda the same, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"But remember what you were saying earlier today, that the golem-mask has a self-sealing 'hole' in it?" You scribble on a piece of paper furiously, but he has seen the solution even as you have. "Put a mind strip onto a golemized mask, and it will open up that hole, because it's the first step toward capturing and copying the mind. But there isn't a mind inside a mask to copy, only a simulacrum of a mind. So it will just loop and loop and loop and loop, but that hole will be open all that time!"<br/>
<br/>
"And that's when you can feed a recapitulation spell through it!" Will adds triumphantly. You give each other a manly handshake. Then his face falls. "Except we don't have a spare mind strip, and without the book we can't make one."<br/>
<br/>
You both chew on your fingernails while staring at the sigils. Then: "I got it!" your twin shouts. ("Dammit," you mutter to yourself; you'd wanted to solve it first.) "We don't need a live mind strip. A dead one will do. Bind it to the front of the mask. Once it's bound to the mask it will go 'live,' because it will be part of a live mask!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna hotwire a mind strip?!" Your eyes nearly pop from your skull.<br/>
<br/>
"That will open up the hole," he continues. "We thread the recapitulate spell through and copy it onto another dead mind strip. That will bring it live, too, and then we'll have Lucy's mind on a mind strip, and then, well ...<br/>
<br/>
It seems like a terribly risky plan, and there will still be the matter of actually using a mind strip that has such terrible memories locked up in it. But you are running out of time.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122211
author_id: seuzz
title: A New Playmate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You object that the trick won't get you any closer to getting safely inside Lucy's head; he points out that you'll have her mind on a mind strip while still being able to get rid of her in a car accident; you retort that you were going to retrieve the golem and the mask anyway after the funeral; he says that will be a week of lost effort if you don't have a mind strip to tinker with ...<br/>
<br/>
He finally wears you down, and late into the evening you work on making up two mind strips. It is nearly eleven before you are done. Nervously, you direct Will to lay one on the upturned forehead of the Lucy mask; you hold a piece of paper bearing a recapitulate spell in one hand, and the other mind strip in the other. With a quick, jerky nod, you give him the signal to cast the binding spell. <br/>
<br/>
All at once the mind strip begins to hiss and glow brightly. You hold the recapitulation spell over the mask and set the other mind strip in its center. You mutter the incantation that opens the portal and start to lower it.<br/>
<br/>
And then Lucy's face appears.<br/>
<br/>
It isn't ghostly or translucent, but very solid and real seeming, as it floats up out of the mask. It's eyes and mouth open, and she seems to gasp. <br/>
<br/>
You are so startled you drop the paper, and it and the mind strip clatter onto the desk. There's a snap of thunder and an arm of lighting shoots up out of the mask, arcs down to pierce the recapitulation spell, and then arcs back out again to dance and spasm like a white-hot limb around the room.<br/>
<br/>
You grab Will and haul him under the table. "It's trying to ground onto a receptacle!" you shout over the racket above.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell me something I don't know!"<br/>
<br/>
"You stay here while I jump out and try to steer it onto the mind strip!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'll do it," he says, and starts to scramble back out. "It was my idea!"<br/>
<br/>
You stop him. "But I'm the boss, and I should be the one to do it!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just the golem! I'm expendable!"<br/>
<br/>
"You have Yumi inside you!"<br/>
<br/>
He opens his mouth to reply, and then the sounds stop and the lights dim again. Cautiously you both peek out. The room has returned to normal.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's a relief," your golem says. "You were running out of arguments, and I'd have had to come out here." You snatch up the spare mind strip and examine it. "Did she ground into it?" <br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "It's still blank."<br/>
<br/>
He grabs your arm, and you follow his pointed finger: The mask of Lucy has melted and fused into a shapeless lump, and as you watch it cracks and shatters into pile of fine dust.<br/>
<br/>
"So, where is she?" Will asks.<br/>
<br/>
"She grounded somewhere in here," you reply. "Something in this room contains what is left of her mind and body."<br/>
<br/>
You both glance around. Desks. Tables and chairs. Clocks and pendulums. Stuffed animals and talismans. And thousands and thousands of books.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
That's all you can do for the evening, for the guardian will begin to make its rounds at midnight. There isn't even time to dispose of Lucy's SUV, now hidden again in the back, and Will hurries back to your old house while you scamper upstairs just as the clocks begin to chime. After the adventure in the library you expect the guardian to be restless, but perhaps it was too cowed by the pyrotechnical display, and it is almost eerily quiet all night long.<br/>
<br/>
You pass an awful night, filled with dreams that you do not remember—that you are glad you do not remember—and wake the next morning to find Blackwell in the kitchen. He seems in a chipper mood, humming softly to himself. He doesn't ask you about Lucy, and he doesn't argue when you say that you'd like to stay home from school for the day and catch up on your studies. "Partied a little hardy, and now feeling guilty?" he teases. You grimace and hang your head in pretended shame.<br/>
<br/>
He leaves for the university shortly afterward, and you dash upstairs to dress so you can get rid of Lucy's SUV in his absence. Thank God he's gone, for when you run into your bedroom—<br/>
<br/>
Lucy is standing there. You scream before you can stop yourself.<br/>
<br/>
She is standing in the middle of the room, completely naked. She would be beautiful, but she is very pale, and the skin under her eyes is bruised and baggy, as though from weeping. She is standing stock still, and regards you with an even, gnomic expression, but something in her demeanor suggests infinite sadness.<br/>
<br/>
You swallow and lick your lips. "Lucy," you croak.<br/>
<br/>
She turns, takes a step, and vanishes into thin air.<br/>
<br/>
You blink. She had seemed utterly solid. You could have sworn you heard her breathing. <br/>
<br/>
No, it was just an illusion, a consequence of last night's colossal cock up.<br/>
<br/>
Great. Now, in addition to everything else, Blackwell's villa has acquired its very own ghost.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe it will prove to have been a one-time appearance, an echo or after effect of last night. But you doubt it. Maybe it will appear only to you. You doubt that, too. Blackwell is going to see it himself before long. Do you pre-empt the visitant by confessing your crime to your mentor? Or do you play dumb?</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212
author_id: seuzz
title: An Accident and Its Aftermath
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's a clever idea your double has had, and the technical challenge is appealing. But it seems safest to just get rid of Lucy in an accident, so you return to your earlier plan.<br/>
<br/>
You coat Yumi's mask with a layer of goop that will put it under your control, and with your twin ducking down in the foot well of your truck drive downtown where the crazy people like to hang out. You have to search in the alleys a bit, but you find quickly overpower one old coot and get Yumi's mask on him. Yumi is far from pleased to find herself materializing in a bunch of stinky rags, but you shut her up and hustle her back into the truck and back to Blackwell's, where she changes and goes home.<br/>
<br/>
You and your replacement then drive out of town, taking your truck and Lucy's SUV. You wedge Blackwell's golem behind the wheel of Lucy's car and put her mask on it. Again, she appears, and starts screaming. Your doppleganger gets her hands on the wheel, puts the SUV in drive, and jumps out as the car leaps away. It doesn't even make it past the first curve.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell is surprised to see you still at the house the next morning when he arrives, though he is gratified to see you studying so hard. He hardly says anything except to express mystification at Lucy's disappearance. You wait with bated breath as he goes to the kitchen, where the morning paper is waiting. Lucy's accident is prominently mentioned on the front page, but after reading it you'd folded it up and returned it to its plastic bag.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" he calls, and you stroll in doing your best to feign nonchalance. Blackwell is very white in the face. "Lucy was killed in an accident yesterday." With a trembling hand he gives the paper to you.<br/>
<br/>
You read the article (again) while pretending to be shocked. "Is there anything we need to do? What was she working on for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's eyes are white around the rims, and he fiddles his fingers nervously. "This is bad," he mutters. "This is very bad." He hiccups. "I must take a hot bath, to calm myself." His feet move uncertainly beneath him as he stumbles up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's shock in turn shocks you: Whatever she was working on must have been very important, and you eat a very nervous breakfast. When Blackwell comes down after an hour he is calmer but still deeply troubled. "We will have to exhume her," he says to your great surprise. "After she's buried."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? What's so important about--?"<br/>
<br/>
He waves you to be silent. "In the meantime, you need to get into her house. Into her room, specifically. She has the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
"She <i>what?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't argue, William," he says firmly. "She has it and we need to get it back. Can you get in there?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why do <i>I</i> have to get it? Can't you just call them and tell them she has this book of yours, and that you'd like them to set it aside for you?"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates, then nods. "Yes, that would be much the least complicated way, wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
His mission is apparently successful, though he hasn't got the book with him when he returns late in the afternoon. "I put it in my office at the school," he says, and you can't help noticing a certain shiftiness in his answer to your question about its whereabouts. He peers down at you. "You've been doing a great deal of work," he observes. "Very commendable. But why don't you take a break? We won't be returning to the <i>Libra</i> until we've exhumed Lucy. You can go home."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm living here," you remind him. "I've got a golem at home."<br/>
<br/>
"So send the golem back here," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's got a girl under it."<br/>
<br/>
"So let the girl go," he says a little testily. "You don't seem to be using her. Or put her mask back on. She was quite delectable, as I recall, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Even if we're not working on the <i>Libra,</i>" you say, "I've got other stuff to work on. I'm making really good headway on--"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to exhaust yourself," he says with a frown. "Trust me on this. You can study Latin, if you want to keep improving yourself."<br/>
<br/>
He's moved well beyond hints and suggestions, and you accede before he can order you out of the house. You call Yumi and have her meet you downtown at the spot where you found the homeless man; you'd gotten rid of his things, but you don't care about that, and in the alley you have Yumi disrobe. You take off her mask, and hightail it away before the crazy man can wake up. You find another deserted corner, and change into Yumi.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Lucy's death is the talk of Westside when you go in the next day, for all the seniors remember her; and of course there is her sister, Cindy, to consider. You're relieved that the latter is not around, but she's still a topic of conversation. "Did you see Chelsea's face this morning," Lin Pol asks as you relax outside at lunch with her and the Garner twins.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Very punchable," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, you could see the gears turning behind it," Lin says.<br/>
<br/>
"You can always see the gears turning," Jessica Garner says.<br/>
<br/>
"What's she going to do about Cindy?" Lin says knowingly. "Lucy's accident has put her in a bad spot. She was hoping to get Cindy to quit the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"That's really cold, Lin," Eva Garner says. "Cindy's sister has just died--"<br/>
<br/>
"Which is why Chelsea's in a bad spot," Lin says.<br/>
<br/>
"I mean you're being really cold. Thinking about what it means for the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what Chelsea's thinking about," Lin retorts. "I really feel for Cindy, but you know that Chelsea doesn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Cindy could make it easy for Chelsea, and just quit anyway," you say. You scrape at the bottom of the yogurt cup. "I wouldn't want to put up with Chelsea, on top of losing a sister."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know that's exactly how she'll play it," Jessica gasps. "Why don't you take some time off, Cindy," she continues in a simpering, sing-song parody of Chelsea at her most insincere. "It's just so awful about Lucy. You need to get your head together. Are you seeing a psychiatrist?"<br/>
<br/>
There are shudders all around.<br/>
<br/>
Talk continues in this vein, but you mostly keep silent, for you're distracted by feelings of guilt. <i>It's your fault.</i> Well, it's Blackwell's fault, you try to remind yourself. He's the one that--<br/>
<br/>
That what? It's true that the Lucy who was going to school and working on his projects was a fake--something in mask--but you've no idea what happened to the real Lucy. Maybe she's still out there, someplace, maybe hidden under a mask, as you've got Yumi hidden under a mask. It doesn't matter if she is still alive but hidden, because her very public accident will mean she can't come back, not without a huge mystery. <br/>
<br/>
And what if Blackwell had her hidden under her own mask, like you've got Melody Weiss hidden under a mask of herself? Then you are directly responsible for her death. Death by <i>gwarcheidwad.</i><br/>
<br/>
Either way, you are directly responsible for Cindy's pain, since you set up that accident.<br/>
<br/>
You end up distracting yourself by concentrating your ire on Chelsea. Yumi knows Chelsea well enough to know that the head cheerleader will find some way of making it worse for Cindy. You'd feel a little better if you could find some way of softening the blow. If you had Chelsea under your control--<br/>
<br/>
Which would be wonderful for lots of reasons. But if she was under your control the way Melody Weiss is--<br/>
<br/>
But you'd need access to the <i>Libra</i> for that, and it's up in Blackwell's office.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Melody Weiss could pay a visit to his office without it looking suspicious,</i> it occurs to you as you're walking back to class.<br/>
<br/>
Distracted in this way, you barely notice Will Prescott until he sidles up to you in the hallway. "Hey boss," he murmurs. "What are <i>you</i> doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ugh, trying to stay away from <i>you,</i>" you snarl back before you realize it.<br/>
<br/>
He looks wounded. "Don't be that way. I got it bad enough--"<br/>
<br/>
You stop to look at him. <i>Why is his presence so distasteful all of a sudden?</i> Then you remember: It's that hex. Yumi has a second-hand exposure to it, and you're looking at him through her eyes. "I'm sorry," you say. "I forgot you have that thing--" You wave your hand at him, indicating the aura.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, if you're really sorry, you could do something about it," he mutters back.<br/>
<br/>
Except you can't, not without access to Blackwell's library.<br/>
<br/>
But you need a project to distract you. After school, it occurs to you, Blackwell will either be up at the school or at his house. You have a fifty-fifty chance of catching him outside either one. Which means you have a fifty-fifty chance of scoring some books so you can work on lifting that hex from yourself, or of scoring the <i>Libra</i> itself.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121
author_id: seuzz
title: The Sweet Life of a New Magician
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>When school lets out, Blackwell will either be at his house or up at his office. You've a fifty-fifty chance of getting into the one while he's at the other.<br/>
<br/>
Then you realize you don't need to gamble, not when you've got two spies who can keep an eye on him. "You're going out to Blackwell's after class to do some 'work'," you tell your double.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, supposedly," he shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm telling you what you're going to do. Go out and see if he's there. Call me and tell me if he is or isn't."<br/>
<br/>
"Why can't you--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just do what you're told. It's to help you." You duck into the girls' bathroom and take a stall, from which you call Melody Weiss. "Hi Melody, you don't recognize my voice or number, but this is the guy you met at Professor Blackwell's on Saturday, and I'm the guy whose orders you have to obey."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" she says skeptically. "How do I know that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because you don't want me coming up to the college, finding you, and <i>showing</i> you." That at least shuts her up, and with surly reluctance she agrees to spy out Blackwell's office from three-thirty onward, and alert you to his movements. When you leave the school, you drive out to a strip center that's roughly equidistant from the college and the villa, to await reports.<br/>
<br/>
The first call comes from Melody: Blackwell is in his office. There's no telling how long he'll be there, but you decide to gamble on hitting his villa before he can get out there, and tell Melody to call as soon as he seems to be in motion. <br/>
<br/>
You call your doppelganger from the car: "I want to make this fast," you tell him. "Can you get inside and disable the <i>gwarcheidwad</i>?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Door's locked."<br/>
<br/>
"So shimmy in through an open window. The thing won't hurt you."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell that to Lucy. Besides, the controls are magical."<br/>
<br/>
"So?"<br/>
<br/>
"So, um, you magician, me golem? I can't do magic."<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Just hang out until I get there, I guess." You hang up. <i>Stupid Prescott, always looking for an excuse to not do any work.</i> Still, he's right; he can't do magic. And the house guardian did do something nasty to--<br/>
<br/>
You nearly drive off the road.<br/>
<br/>
You're so stupid, you've been concentrating too much on the Lucy mask and not enough on whatever was underneath. Lucy did magic up in the workroom, so Lucy wasn't a golem, but a real person. It was sophisticated magic as well, which means it was either Blackwell himself or another very powerful magician. If it was Blackwell, then he's now dead, and the person in the office is only a golem, and you've nothing to fear from it. If it was someone else, then you've got a good excuse to give Blackwell when you explain what happened over the weekend. Surely <i>he</i> wouldn't want some strange and powerful practitioner of the occult sneaking into his house under Lucy's mask.<br/>
<br/>
Before you even get to his house, you've figured out exactly what you're going to do.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Mr. Prescott," Professor Blackwell says as he closes the front door behind him. His address is slightly ambiguous, for you and a "Will Prescott" are waiting for him in the foyer. "I didn't see your car out front. I told you to take the week off."<br/>
<br/>
"Something's happened, professor," you reply, and nod at your double; he nods back, and takes up station next to Blackwell, who gives him a wary glance. "This is really awkward, but I can explain, and I think you'll thank me later after I've explained."<br/>
<br/>
"Explained what?"<br/>
<br/>
"This." You give Will another nod, and he seizes the professor about the torso, pinning his arms down. Blackwell gasps, but you leap for his face and have your fingers on his brow before he can start to struggle in earnest.<br/>
<br/>
And then there's no further need of explanations. You have a mask in your hand, and Blackwell's clothes are settling around a slim golem. It looks like a eerily exact replica of Lucy Vredenburg, executed in stone.<br/>
<br/>
"Whoa," Will Prescott gasps, and his eyes go wide. "You know what this means, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm pretty sure I do," you say quietly, and regard the mask in your hand. It has no "golem shell" inside it. "But let's find out for sure." You go into the library, to put it to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Well, kiddies, that's the way it stands," you say, and settle back in the chair with a smile.<br/>
<br/>
You're back inside Jared's face, feeling rather powerful and pleased with yourself. On the other side of the  desk stand four figures.<br/>
<br/>
Melody Weiss--more accurately, a golem of Melody Weiss, with the real girl beneath--is standing to one side, with her shoulders awkwardly hunched.<br/>
<br/>
Yumi Saito--more accurately, a golem of Yumi, with the real girl beneath--is standing beside her. She doesn't look much happier than Melody.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott--more accurately, a golem of yourself, with another grubby homeless bum underneath--is perched on the edge of the desk with a shit-eating grin on his face.<br/>
<br/>
And Aubrey Blackwell--more accurately, a mask of Blackwell, now coated with a golem shell under your control, sitting on a golemized Lucy Vredenburg--stands off to the side. He glowers with ill-disguised anger.<br/>
<br/>
You spread your hands and take in the library with an expansive gesture. "It's now mine. All mine." You lower your hands to rest them on the <i>Libra,</i> which the newly compliant professor has brought back to the house. "This too."<br/>
<br/>
"And what are you going to do with them?" Blackwell asks sourly.<br/>
<br/>
"Continue my studies. Continue <i>your</i> studies. I like it." Your voice softens. "I feel like this is what I was made to do. And you'll help me, Aubrey."<br/>
<br/>
"Will I?" he asks in a strained voice.<br/>
<br/>
"That wasn't a question, Aubrey. It was a command," you say. Stiffly, he bows.  "And don't worry about it. You'll be happy to help. When you're not teaching frat brothers, I'll probably be wearing your face in here and doing your research."<br/>
<br/>
"Blech," your replacement says. "Way to take one for Team Prescott." Blackwell glares at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you all know what to do. Yumi, Melody, Will? Home. Aubrey, up in the bedroom so I can take your face off."<br/>
<br/>
"What are we going to do about Lucy?" Will asks. "You know, the one they're going to bury." Technically, he's following your orders, for he's edging toward the doorway as the others shuffle out.<br/>
<br/>
"Let 'em bury her," you shrug. "We don't need the golem underneath it, and we don't need her mask. Come by tomorrow after school for your regular two-hour workstudy assignment," you continue as you follow him out. "Then go home, show your face to dad so he knows you're still following his orders, then use Caleb or Keith as an excuse to come back here after supper. We're gonna figure out what to do about that hex."<br/>
<br/>
"Am I still gonna get paid?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Same rate, fifty bucks an hour."<br/>
<br/>
"Sweet!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It certainly is. <br/>
<br/>
That was Blackwell under Lucy's mask, and it was your erstwhile mentor who got carried off by the house guardian. Why he refused to identify himself is something you will have to investigate more deeply, for it puzzles you. But you only had his mask on long enough to get the general story of the past few days.<br/>
<br/>
He had hidden himself under Lucy's mask in order to carry on research while sending his own double off to do other research out of town. (Lucy herself was an early victim of his; she had been his prisoner inside the hidden cellar that leads off the library when you first came, and once he had the <i>Libra</i> back he had used it to turn her into a golem.) Both strands of his research are connected to you, and the golem had gone off to Cuthbert to check out your family connections. Those would be the Shabblemans, those horrible cousins. Something in your lineage--something in your very being--intrigues him.<br/>
<br/>
And now you're intrigued. You've got a lot of avenues to investigate. There is yourself, where Blackwell seems to have been concentrating while still in town. There are the Shabblemans. There is that hex, which you genuinely want to get off yourself, and not just for the sake of your double. There is Chelsea, whom you are still thinking of dealing with. And there is, of course, the <i>Libra.</i><br/>
<br/>
Ah, the <i>Libra.</i> You lean back and stroke it. It came to you of its own will, of that you are certain. It was connected to the Schlabonenmann of Saxony, and through them to the Shabblemans, you're sure. It had been in upstate New York, in the possession of one Margaret Shabbleman Jones, who had willed it to her Cuthbert relations. But Blackwell had waylaid it at the source, and redirected it to an address, where he would be able to steal it. That address, by astonishing coincidence, was Salopek Engineering, in care of Harris Prescott--your own father. It slipped from his grasp after he had barely cracked it open, and you of all people had laid hands on it in Arnholm's Used Bookstore.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, it has been trying to get to you.<br/>
<br/>
So you are torn as to your priorities. Part of you wants to dig into it, not necessarily to advance through the spells, but to unlock its secrets. Before coming to work with Blackwell, you might have been content to simply goof around with golems and masks, but now you are hooked on the subtleties of magic, and would prefer to slowly tease out its secrets by taking apart its sigils, as Blackwell had begun to teach you to do. You could use what you learn, perhaps, to lift the hex, and to deal with Chelsea.<br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, you'd like to know more about yourself. Why was the <i>Libra</i> trying so hard to get to you? What is special about you? That would involve picking up Blackwell's recent research, on you and on the Shabblemans.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211
author_id: seuzz
title: The Essence of Will Prescott
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Yes, you have lots of things to explore. Fortunately, you've no shortage of brains to apply to them. Your own double, as you've learned over the weekend, is at least as quick as you, and totally cooperative. Blackwell is now under your control. And Melody seems pretty sharp. After thinking it over, you decide to parcel out the brainpower to match the difficulty of the tasks: You and Blackwell will concentrate on figuring out what--if anything--is so special about you, and Will (maybe with Melody's help) will tackle the hex. After all, the golem has at least as much of an incentive as you.<br/>
<br/>
So you bring Blackwell back down into the library. He sits stiffly opposite you. "Be completely honest with me," you tell him. "Always. Hold nothing back."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't like this," he snaps back.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not interested in your opinions," you retort. "I only want to know what you think, what you suspect, what you know." He grimaces, but again nods. "Why are you interested in me?"<br/>
<br/>
"You have a prodigious talent," he says, talking as if the words are painful. "I wanted to know why, and whether I could bend it to my own purposes."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of talent? What can I do that is so impressive?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your ability to dissect and understand sigils. Your ability to apply them in novel ways. Some of the things you made." He picks up the fire bowl--the little thing you made for burning scrap paper. "This, for example. The way you discerned how to put a golem inside a mask, without even examining the <i>Libra.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe it's just a knack," you say. "Some people are good at tinkering."<br/>
<br/>
"Possibly." He seems to fight the next revelation, and prefaces it with a muttered aside. "You ordered me to hold nothing back. The first night you were here, you fashioned a <i>pupa.</i>" You give him a puzzled glance; instead of replying, he unlocks a drawer, and from it takes out a wad of clay. "You spat in this and fashioned it into a <i>pupa</i> of me."<br/>
<br/>
You vaguely remember: It was while you were cataloging for him; you'd been nervously playing with the clay. "What's a <i>pupa</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"A voodoo doll, if you want the misleading answer," he says. "A proxy used in certain primitive spells when the original is not on hand."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't know that's what I did."<br/>
<br/>
"That is why I was so impressed."<br/>
<br/>
You tug at your lip. "This kind of talent, is it like an ability, like a superpower? Or is it just a skill, a knack?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face at the word "superpower." "Your ability to manipulate sigils might simply be a 'knack', as you call it. Some people are very good at math. But the <i>pupa</i> suggested to me the presence of uncommon abilities."<br/>
<br/>
"How uncommon? Do you have any such abilities?"<br/>
<br/>
"I am but a humble golem," he says with a nasty smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell himself, I mean. Did he have any such abilities?"<br/>
<br/>
"No more than I," he says, still smiling in an unpleasant way. "Immense book learning, if I am allowed to brag about another to whom I am in many ways identical. Skill borne of hard and patient practice."<br/>
<br/>
"Could Blackwell have fashioned a <i>pupa</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but only after a great deal of work and the application of many sigils to imbue it with the necessary qualities. You did it just by spitting in prepared clay."<br/>
<br/>
"I got magic spit?" you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
He doesn't. "It suggests something special in your <i>essentia.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"That's the stuff that goes into making golems."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, but that is only one application. It is much more than that."<br/>
<br/>
You drum your fingers on the desk. You can hardly believe it, but you're about to ask him for homework: "Make me a reading list. A special study course. I want to read up on it."<br/>
<br/>
"As you wish." He starts to rise.<br/>
<br/>
"Before you start, I got more questions," you say, and he sits again. "You were investigating my relatives. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
"I wished to understand the nature of your <i>essentia.</i> Before I could study it directly, I had to have some notion of what to look for, what I might find."<br/>
<br/>
"Are there different kinds of <i>essentia?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
He hesitates for a bit. It's not reluctance to answer, you can tell, but an attempt to give a clear answer to a murky question. "Yes, no, and rather," he says in a helpless way. "There is only one kind of <i>essentia,</i> and everyone has <i>essentia.</i> But each person's <i>essentia</i> is unique to them, of course, for their <i>essentia</i> is what makes them into who they are. And <i>essentia</i> can enter into different kinds of relations with other metaphysical elements."<br/>
<br/>
You must have made a face, for he shifts in his chair. "Ask me if there are different kinds of atoms," he says. You oblige. "I would give the same answer. Yes, no, and rather. There is only kind of thing that can be called an atom. An assemblage of protons, neutrons and electrons. But there are different kinds of atoms. Hydrogen atoms, helium atoms, carbon atoms, and so forth. A bar made purely of gold atoms and a bar made purely of lead atoms will both be made purely of atoms, but they are made of different kinds of atoms, and will have different properties and react in different ways to the environment. Oxygen reacts with other atoms and gives off heat. Gold does not.<br/>
<br/>
"It is the same with <i>essentia,</i>" he continues. "You and I-- Rather, you and the late professor Blackwell both have it. But yours <i>burns</i> in a way that his did not. Before examining it directly, I wanted to know if I was dealing with something like oxygen or something like cesium. I certainly didn't want it blowing up in my face."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why you were investigating the Shabblemans?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Some species of <i>essentia</i> run in bloodlines. Others have their roots in the humors, or in the Empedoclean elements."<br/>
<br/>
"Make up a list of possibilities and add it to my assignment. One more question. Why wouldn't Blackwell sleep with me?"<br/>
<br/>
You regret the phrasing as soon as it has passed your lips, for the golem doesn't bother to hide its mirth. "You're not his type, Mr. Prescott. May I add that he doesn't seem your type either."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean--" It hits you that the golem doesn't know what happened to his original. "He came back to the house, dressed up like Lucy Vredenburg. I, uh, propositioned him, but he didn't tell me who he was."<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows go up. "I'm not surprised. He was pretending to be out of town." The golem splays its hand across his chest, and tilts his head.<br/>
<br/>
"He refused, even after I threatened to throw him to the house guardian."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" His eyes go very wide, then travel to the vampire cyclops-monkey. "Ah. Is that, uh --?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Why would he gamble his life with it instead of with me?"<br/>
<br/>
His face grows long, and he scratches his cheek. "Fear of your <i>essentia</i>, I suppose. So I would feel in his place. It takes a purity of form in the semen." He swallows. "And you had become quite advanced in your studies. He would have feared that you knew more than you were letting on, and that if he exposed himself he would put himself at your mercy."<br/>
<br/>
You're silent for a good long time, trying to get your head around these revelations. But there's really not much more to do until he gets that study course made up for you. With a wave of your hand you tell him to get to work on that.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, you open up the <i>Libra</i> and page through it. There are the familiar spells. The one that makes a mask. The one that copies a brain. The one that makes a golem. The one that turns humans into golems. The one that puts a golem inside a mask.<br/>
<br/>
And after that: "Hey, what's this?" you call to Blackwell. He comes down off a ladder to look over a shoulder. "Did Blackwell rip this page away?"<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "No, it was like that when he found it. A damnable bit of luck."<br/>
<br/>
So it is. The page after the seventh spell is ripped neatly across the middle. At the top is a list of ingredients. But the bottom of the page, where the sigil would be, is gone. The page beneath is visible, but the text is a shifting, metamorphic mess. Without the rest of the page, there is no executing the spell so as to turn the page, to get to the rest of the book.<br/>
<br/>
You frown long over it, but it gives you a headache. You turn back to the beginning, and spend time acquainting yourself again and more directly with the sigils and spells while Blackwell fetches books and scratches out notes on sheets of paper. You don't stop until it's nearly midnight. You put out the lights, lead the golem upstairs, and remove the mask so it won't get up to any mischief during the night. You then seal yourself inside Blackwell's own bedroom so you'll be safe from the <i>gwarcheidwad,</i> and crawl into bed. It's been a busy day, and you fall asleep quite quickly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It feels almost like Christmas the next morning, and you bound through the shower and out the bedroom almost as soon as you're awake. You revive the golem and have it show you through the work it's assembled for you before sending it on to the college to take care of the professor's mundane existence. You then settle at the breakfast table with some eggs and coffee to start looking over your new coursework.<br/>
<br/>
But your attention keeps going back to that torn page. You've plenty to occupy yourself, but you don't like having that dead end there.<br/>
<br/>
Melody is good with languages. Maybe if you had her come out to look at the book, she could shed some light on that torn page.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112
author_id: seuzz
title: Piercing the Veil
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I have classes and studying to do," Melody says when you call her. "I can't drop everything--"<br/>
<br/>
"You can if I tell you to," you retort. "I'm trying to be nice here. Don't make me crack the whip." She grumbles, but agrees to come out early in the afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
With that settled, you turn back to the pile of books that Blackwell left for you. It's not well organized--he only had a few hours to start drawing up the "course work"--but you get a start.<br/>
<br/>
To your dismay, you find that it's going to be a bit like unraveling a Persian rug. Everything is connected to everything else in the occult, and <i>essentia</i> is no exception. The first book is a short primer, hardly more than ten pages long, that looks self-published--the pages are all typewritten--and you glance at the title page on a hunch. There's no author listed, but the literary style makes you think it was written by Blackwell himself.<br/>
<br/>
It announces that there are four "metaphysical constituents" to human beings: <i>substantia, essentia, anima,</i> and <i>imago.</i> Three of these you are slightly familiar with. <i>Substantia</i> you know from working with golems; <i>imago</i> is the stuff that makes masks work; and <i>essentia</i> is what you want to learn about. <i>Anima</i> is a mystery.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Imago</i>, the blustery author declares, is the only element that can be directly apprehended by the senses, and this apprehension itself "only occurs in a special way." <i>Imago</i> is appearance: the physical forms that we see and touch and smell. This is <i>imago</i> "as phenomenon", whereas <i>imago</i> "as noumenon, the thing in itself" is unknowable. There is a reference to Kant in a footnote, but you don't follow up on it.<br/>
<br/>
The other three, the book says, exist only as "noumena, conditions of metaphysical possibility": "knowable by the philosopher through intellect, but in theory able to be manipulated by the practitioner of occult arts." <br/>
<br/>
You wince, settle grimly into the chair, and press on.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Substantia</i> is the "condition of physical existence, true and undifferentiated substance"; it is not "atoms and molecules, nor matter nor energy, which are only an appearance in space-time as any other form"; rather it is "that which explains the existence of anything and distinguishes being from non-being in the phenomenal world." <br/>
<br/>
<i>Phenomenal,</i> you think bitterly to yourself. <i>Brilliant. Bloody impossible to understand.</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>Essentia</i> is "the condition of speciation, the difference of kind." "Undifferentiated <i>substantia</i> (to be redundant, for <i>substantia</i> includes the predicate 'undifferentiated' as part of its analysis) is differentiated by reference to <i>essentia</i>," says the book. "This kind vs. that kind is reference to 'this <i>essentia</i>' and 'that <i>essentia</i>'." <br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes and scan ahead.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Anima</i> is "differentiation at the individual level." It is "this one and that one." "The role that spatial and temporal coordinates play in distinguishing individuals in the phenomenal world, <i>anima</i> plays in the field of the metaphysical constituents." <br/>
<br/>
You close the book with a snort and pass on to the next. <br/>
<br/>
It's in Latin. So are all the others. You sigh deeply, and wonder if the fake Blackwell was sniggering at you behind its back all the time it was putting this packet together for you.<br/>
<br/>
Melody knows Latin, you're sure, but she'll be even more lost than you at figuring out this stuff. Fortunately, you know a way of getting your head and her head together, so you take the <i>Libra</i> up into the work room, where (you're not surprised to see) Blackwell has lots of makings for lots of things. You spend the rest of the morning laying in supplies for possible use: six blank masks, eight blank mind bands (one of which you finish up all the way through the rune work), a tub of mask sealant, and a tub of golem sealant using your own hair. You will have to be very careful with the latter, for you can only make five golems, and with the masks you already have four in play.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What have you got?" you ask Melody without looking up from the desk, where you're carefully reading and making notes from one of the books Blackwell left.<br/>
<br/>
"This is the best I can make of it," she says, and sets a piece of paper down along with the <i>Libra.</i> You glance carefully between the original and her translation, noting with approval that she's written out several different possible translations.<br/>
<br/>
It's easy for you to check her work, just as it's easy for you now to read <i>De Essentia,</i> for as soon as she arrived you'd taken her mask off long enough to slap a mind band onto her; with her head inside yours, you are as good at languages as she is. Still, it made sense to keep her working separately on the <i>Libra</i> problem. If you could get Blackwell's head inside yours--but he's not around to get a mental copy of--you'd have all three of your smart guys inside your own skull; but you'd still work each of the golems, for efficiency's sake.<br/>
<br/>
It's mostly a set of ingredients, duplicates of the ingredients for a mind band. The only addition is a gnomic instruction: "My use is my solution," she has as one translation. "Use me to solve me" is another. But who is "me"?<br/>
<br/>
You drum your fingers and carefully examine the ragged bottom of the torn page. There are no signs of ink marks, no sign of any additional writing. You rub your chin with your knuckles. <i>It's a riddle,</i> a little voice says inside you. <i>The book is taunting you with a riddle.</i><br/>
<br/>
You blink: Of course! "Me" is the book. You are supposed to use the book to solve the riddle. But then you sag. Of course you're supposed to use the book; what else would you use? Use the book? No, use the item whose ingredients its given you. Use them <i>on</i> the book?<br/>
<br/>
Seized by a sudden insight, you rush the book upstairs and make another mind band, finishing it as quickly as you can in a way consistent with care. With trembling fingers you lay it across the torn page. Your breath quickens as it vanishes inside the <i>Libra.</i> The wait is exquisite torture, but after a few minutes it reappears, and you lay it against the spine. It vanishes again. You turn back to the torn page, just in time to see its bottom half materialize.<br/>
<br/>
What a clever son of a bitch the author was. The book has its own <i>imago,</i> which is undisturbed by any damage done to it; catch the <i>imago</i> and set it on the book, and you can return it to its original state. You turn the page, but only long enough to confirm that you can now get deeper into the book. Sure enough, there is the next spell, as readable as the previous ones. The new page cannot be turned, but that isn't a surprise.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, don't you look smug," Melody says as you saunter down the stairs. "Got it figured out, huh?"<br/>
<br/>
"<i>We</i> got it figured out, Melody," you say. "I could kiss you, but at the moment that would be like kissing myself." You stop short, and stifle a small laugh. "Speaking of which--"<br/>
<br/>
She turns red.<br/>
<br/>
"So that's how come you didn't want to come over," you continue. "Well, I don't want to get in the way of your date." She blushes even more furiously. "He <i>is</i> cute, isn't he?"<br/>
<br/>
"And what's he see in me, right?" she snarls in embarrassment. <br/>
<br/>
"Oh, don't be like that," you tell her, and take her by the elbow. "If he likes you, be happy about it. Don't worry about where it leads." You pause as you feel a twinge. "You know, there was a girl that liked me for a little while. She stopped liking me after awhile, but I'm glad we had a little time together."<br/>
<br/>
Melody still looks pinched in the face, and mutters something, but you let her go. She's supposed to meet him at the coffee shop, to talk in a couple of languages about things that would be over your head if you weren't swimming inside hers at the moment. She's having fun with the talk, and is strenuously trying to avoid noticing that Joe--for that's his name--is a blonde Adonis who really does seem to like her company.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Hey boss, you got it figured out yet?" Will Prescott calls breathlessly from the foyer, slamming the door behind him.<br/>
<br/>
"No, that'll be your job," you call back. You glance up to find him looking at you from the library with a disappointed expression. "I'm dividing the jobs. I got Melody and Blackwell working on some other projects. You'll be working the hex thing. I'm jumping in to help where I can. And right now--" You rifle the pages of the thick book.<br/>
<br/>
"Aw, shit," he says, and slumps into a chair. "I was hoping you'd have it licked by this afternoon. You're good enough, aren't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"If I am, <i>you</i> can have it licked by midnight."<br/>
<br/>
"It's getting worse at school," he whines. "A couple of people actually hissed at me in the halls."<br/>
<br/>
"Then get off your ass and get started on your research," you retort. He flinches. "What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You sounded just like dad when you said that."<br/>
<br/>
You snort, then turn it into a chuckle. "I'd rather sound like a Prescott than a Shabbleman."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what you're working on?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, that'll be long range. I'm--"<br/>
<br/>
"Holy fuck, since when can you read Latin?" He's peering at the book you have out. <br/>
<br/>
"Since I swiped a copy of Melody Weiss's brain." You tap your forehead. "It's been a productive day."<br/>
<br/>
"Mind sharing what you got?" He waves his hand in front of his face.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't share her head with you, but I'll let you see what I've done." He smiles as you reach for his face.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121
author_id: seuzz
title: More Tricks of the Trade
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"At least we know how it works," Will Prescott says as he starts to head home. <br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but fixing it's gonna be a bitch," you reply. It's Wednesday, and you worked on the hex for most of the past two days with your twin. <br/>
<br/>
"It's not an illusion spell," he'd said earlier, looking up from the design that Blackwell had put on the money bills. "It's a 'pierce illusion' spell. That aura on you is what's scaring people. The hexed money just allows people to see it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like it's a really ugly pimple," you'd sourly replied.<br/>
<br/>
He'd snickered. "What have you found?"<br/>
<br/>
"That's it's definitely modified my <i>imago,</i>" you'd said while peering into one of Blackwell's books. "Like someone scribbled on the label of a soup can."<br/>
<br/>
"And I got the same scribbled up label." He frowns thoughtfully. "Got your soup inside my can, too. That's what <i>essentia</i> is like. The label just lets you see what kind of soup it is without opening it up."<br/>
<br/>
"Unless masks are involved. That's like switching labels around, like Robert did last April Fools Day." You'd opened up a can of chili, and gotten lentil soup.<br/>
<br/>
"So if it's marked up <i>imago,</i> we should be able to undo it, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"In principle," you'd agreed. "You could make someone's face look like it's melting off, or make a third eye pop out of their cheek. But the subtle stuff, like this hex, that'd take skill. I gotta feeling we're going to have put your <i>imago</i>--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yours," he'd corrected.<br/>
<br/>
"--under a kind of x-ray, to see <i>exactly</i> what's going on inside it."<br/>
<br/>
You'd done some more work, but gotten nowhere before he had to leave.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Afterward, you seal yourself up for the night in Blackwell's bedroom, and carve some runes into a new mind band while thinking.<br/>
<br/>
As a "phenomenon," <i>imago</i> appears as faces and bodies; but in its noumenal form--its "really real" form--it is only a substance of the intellect, like numbers. You can see and touch "two pencils", but the actual number "two" is something that can only be <i>thought</i> about. It's the same way with <i>imago</i>: to study yours  directly, you will have to get a copy of your body inside a mind band, so you can study it intellectually. <br/>
<br/>
At least you know how to do that. You call Yumi, who is polishing up a new mask for you. To your surprise, she tells you it's done. "Mokichi spotted me working on it," she says. "He suggested using a car polisher on it. So I did."<br/>
<br/>
You cuss to yourself: Why didn't it occur to you to use something like that instead of wasting days with a rag? "Bring it over tomorrow morning before school," you tell her. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>Thursday morning.</i> You start by putting the fresh mask to your face: That gives you a new copy of your bodily <i>imago</i>. Onto it you set a new mind band. It hisses and glows, for it is trying to open up a mind to copy. But there's no mind inside that mask, only your face and body.<br/>
<br/>
Over the mask you hold a "recapitulate" sigil with a second blank mind band in its center. You murmur the words that activate the sigil, and hold tight.<br/>
<br/>
The hiss grows louder, and there's a snap of thunder. You jump, and the paper rattles, but you don't let go. Something very white and hot glows beneath the paper, and you choke: Is it going to set the paper on fire? The mask beneath makes some hard snapping noises, and the glow fades. A burning odor fills your nostrils. <br/>
<br/>
You set the paper aside and look at the mask: It still holds a ghostly image of your own face, but that doesn't matter. You examine the second mind band, the one you've just copied your bodily <i>imago</i> into. The world reels, and you shut your eyes. Whatever is written on it is not meant to be seen by human eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep breath, and put it to your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"What was it like?" Will asks later that afternoon. You're describing what it was like to look at bodily <i>imago</i> inside your head instead of on a golem.<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of like static," you say. "A lot of churn. Sigils, lots of lots of tiny sigils, containing each other and connected to each other in a godawful way. It was hard to concentrate on, actually. Easier to ignore it, like a lot of white noise. It's basically like line code they use to make CG figures in the movies. Sigils instead of ones and zeros, and even more complicated."<br/>
<br/>
"Could you find where the hex was attached?" he asks. You just give him a look. "So what are we going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Figure out a way to simplify and interpret all that code, I guess. It gave me a headache, though, so I went back to the <i>Libra</i> and made this with the next spell." You toss a metal strip to him. "That's <i>anima</i>."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a mind band," he frowns. "Except--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, the name's in red instead of blue. I figure that's so you don't get them mixed up. Anyway, <i>anima.</i> It's like a serial number, like with those soup cans we were talking about earlier. If the cans are all full of the same kind of soup, that's like being filled with the same <i>essentia.</i> But you can stamp each one with a different number to make them unique, even if they've got the same label. That's what <i>anima</i> is. You and me are basically the same person because you've got my <i>essentia</i> inside that golem shell, and that's how come you have to do what I tell you to do. But if you had your own <i>anima,</i> you'd be independent."<br/>
<br/>
"So, if I put this on--"<br/>
<br/>
"We'd have to bind it to the mask first."<br/>
<br/>
"But then I'd stop being a puppet?"<br/>
<br/>
His tone is merely curious, and there's no hint that he resents being so much under your control. And he doesn't look disappointed when you shake your head. "No, because that's my <i>anima.</i> If you put it on, then we'd <i>really</i> be identical, because we'd share <i>anima</i> as well. We'd have to make you your own unique <i>anima</i>, and I haven't seen a way of doing that."<br/>
<br/>
"So what good is this thing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, one weird thing is that it contains mental <i>imago</i> in addition to the <i>anima.</i> In fact, the way I understand it, memories and stuff <i>is</i> part of <i>anima.</i> The stuff we've been getting out with mind bands is just a kind of shadow that <i>anima</i> casts into <i>imago.</i> The real memories are inside <i>that.</i>" You point to the band. "And more than that. The book I got all this out of--" You tap its cover. "It refers to <i>anima</i> as 'sedes'. It's kind of like the soul. It contains your point-of-view, your sense of self." He looks puzzled. "If I put this on someone, then they wouldn't just get my memories. They'd get my 'sense of self'. They'd feel like they <i>were</i> me. As near as I can figure, they'd think they <i>were</i> me, like they'd been body-swapped."<br/>
<br/>
"How is that different from--?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's the way they'd act. When I put on Melody's mind-band, I still think I'm myself. I just have Melody's memories in there with me. But if I put on Melody's anima-band, I'd have her memories, but I'd think 'Oh my God, I'm Melody Weiss, and I've been swapped into Will Prescott's body!'"<br/>
<br/>
"But wouldn't you <i>know</i> what was going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"Intellectually. But I think it wouldn't matter. I would feel it so strongly that I'd still act like Melody would at being tricked into a body swap."<br/>
<br/>
He scratches his chin. "So you don't want to put someone else's <i>anima</i> onto yourself. But if you put <i>your anima</i> onto someone--" He looks up at you with bright eyes: "You'd get someone like me, but still in their original body, and without having to mess around with a golem?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of. Unlike you, they'd be independent of me, because we wouldn't have the same <i>essentia</i>. They might get ideas of their own."<br/>
<br/>
After that, it's back to researching the hex, but you take a short break first to call Melody with her next assignment. "I was thinking of calling you," she says. "Can I come out and talk?"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why didn't you tell me about this poltergeist stuff?" you ask after she's arrived at the villa and given you the whole story about books moving themselves when she's studying at the school library.<br/>
<br/>
"I figured it was normal. I mean, look at this place." She looks around with obvious distaste.<br/>
<br/>
You and your twin exchange a glance. "Nothing weird's been going on around me," he says. "Maybe it's Blackwell trying to come back from the beyond?"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe. This guy. Joe," you say to Melody, for she has mentioned it to him. "Does he seem serious when he says it's bad for your health to work here?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's hard to tell when he's being serious."<br/>
<br/>
"How did you meet him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was walking back to my dorm Monday night. I heard someone behind me and starting sprinting. I ran headlong into him. He walked me home." She looks abashed. "I gave him my number, and since then--"<br/>
<br/>
"Guy moves fast," Will grins.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not like that!"<br/>
<br/>
He looks her up and down critically. "I'm sure it isn't," he snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, you little asshole--!"<br/>
<br/>
"When did this poltergeist stuff start?" you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
"I first really noticed the day before yesterday. One of the books I had out just slid onto the floor. But there were a couple of things that happened over the weekend that felt a little weird, now that I think of them."<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell?" Will says again. "He got eaten up on Saturday night."<br/>
<br/>
"Pretty fuckin' weird however you slice it," you agree. "Poltergeists, and Melody here getting a boyfriend." You ignore her glower. "I wanna be careful. This stuff isn't anything to fuck around with."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's the plan, boss?"</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Date With Melody's Boyfriend
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Well ain't this a pretty sight," Will Prescott chortles. He leers at Melody, who is wrapped in Blackwell's bathrobe. "Can I get a look at what this Joe guy sees in you?"<br/>
<br/>
She returns his leer with a faint smirk, and opens the robe. He goggles, then looks away as waves of crimson and pallor wash over his face. "Yeah, I didn't think you'd get excited over it," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"If it's good enough for this Joe guy, it should be good enough for me," you say as you tuck Melody's thin blue blouse into her ratty jeans. "But you two stay out of each other while I'm gone."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't tell <i>me</i> what to do," Melody retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"No, but I can still tell <i>him.</i>" You nod at Will. "Come on, be nice to each other. We're all basically the same person."<br/>
<br/>
"Then you know how I feel about being in here," Melody says, gesturing at her body.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not so bad," you say, and baldly adjust your small breasts, settling them more comfortably inside the bra and blouse. "It's not Yumi, but it's still a girl."<br/>
<br/>
"And you don't have to worry about getting in trouble with me," Will grins. "Golems shoot blanks." He looks between you and Melody, and his face curls up a little. "Come on, guys, aren't either of you a little bit curious what it'd be like to be with, uh, yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you say, and look over at Melody when she hesitates.<br/>
<br/>
"No," she says, and then bridles. "Okay, maybe a little. This <i>is</i> a real female body, not <i>imago</i> like you're wearing." She jerks her chin at you.<br/>
<br/>
"As long as it's good enough for Joe," you say, and snatch up her book satchel. "I'll call if it turns into an all-nighter."<br/>
<br/>
"He <i>is</i> a blonde god, isn't he?" Melody says with a very Prescott-like leer.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up, and start researching poltergeists. How are you doing in there, professor?" you call into the library.<br/>
<br/>
"It's coming," Blackwell calls back. "Though not in the same sense of the word that <i>you</i> three seem to using."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You want to see this Joe person for yourself; and you want to set lots of hands to work on researching the paranormal possibilities; and you've been wanting to test out that <i>anima</i> band. <br/>
<br/>
And it's all come together. You'd put the <i>anima</i> band onto Melody so you could wear her mask; and she, with your mind and will inside her, will work with Prescott and Blackwell in a crash research course while you meet with Joe. You've already called him, and set up a coffee date near the university.<br/>
<br/>
He's waiting in a booth, and smiles broadly.<br/>
<br/>
You feel some of Melody's own thrill as you approach. He's young--probably no more than a college freshman--with solid, rounded muscles that bulge invitingly beneath a tight t-shirt. His shaggy blonde hair glints with golden highlights, and his eyes twinkle with playful mischief. And then there's his grin, which is wide and white and guilelessly friendly. Melody feels relief and warmth when he has her under his gaze.<br/>
<br/>
He's got manners, too, and stands as you sidle up to the table, and helps you take the satchel off your shoulder. He also lightly runs his fingertips along your shoulder blade. He likes to touch you--Melody--but not in a forward way. It's a flattering touch, with no sense of pushiness. "I'm sorry I'm late," you gasp. "Traffic."<br/>
<br/>
"Were you over at the professor's?"<br/>
<br/>
"Blackwell's, you mean? Yes."<br/>
<br/>
"He's working you hard."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm learning a lot."<br/>
<br/>
"About what?" He relaxes against the side of the booth, and fixes you with that wide, curious-laden gaze.<br/>
<br/>
"I've told you. Antiquities. Right now I'm researching an old scandal in Hanoverian England."<br/>
<br/>
"It was nothing but old scandals with them, wasn't it?" he laughs. "Regency period?"<br/>
<br/>
"George the First. Don't you pay attention to what I say?"<br/>
<br/>
"I pay attention to <i>you,</i>" he says, and you blush. "Are <i>you</i> interested in that stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"I could be talked into it. If there's a thesis to be written. But why are you interested in Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Because you've been talking about him. We could talk about some of your other professors, if you like. Or just about you." He stretches a lazy finger to touch the back of your hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, why do say working for him is bad for my health? That poltergeist stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, that," he laughs. "I just said that because of something else you said you were researching. Some old witch trial in Saxony."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said you only pay attention to me, not to what I say."<br/>
<br/>
"I listen to both. I was only joking when I mentioned the Regency. George the Fourth was more fun than George the First."<br/>
<br/>
"He was a disgusting old reprobate."<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's talk about you." He turns a placemat over and takes out a pencil. "Don't mind if I doodle. Where were you born?"<br/>
<br/>
You blink. "Uh, Columbus. My family moved here when I was thirteen."<br/>
<br/>
"How many people are in your family?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough," you say, and he laughs. "I have two parents and a brother." You have to stop from correcting yourself, for in your haste to answer you've described your own family, not Melody's.<br/>
<br/>
"When's your birthday?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a curious conversation that follows. It starts off with a lot of direct questions, but meanders off into light talk about this and that before returning to more direct questions. Joe is a good talker, and you find yourself relaxing, even though the conversation pulses in odd ways. Some of his questions--the biographical ones--are ordinary. Some are odd but thoughtful: "Do you think dogs have souls?" Some are just crazy: "What color is the number seven?" You argue with him over several of them, especially when he chides you: "That's not what you <i>really</i> think, is it?"<br/>
<br/>
You ask him several times what he's doing, for he's doodling in a purposeful way the entire time, and though the questioning feels light, he gradually seems to turn serious. "Just a parlor game I like to play with people," he says. At the end of it, he puts the placemat away and takes out a little golden disc. "Here's another one," he says. "You'll like it. Try to get the bead from one end to the other."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, one of <i>those,</i> huh?" You take it. Its surface is crisscrossed with lots of faint, thin bands, like the surface of a computer chip, and a little bead that shines like quick-silver slides along. You don't see how it stays attached to the disc, and you have to concentrate hard on it, for the bead keeps sliding over into a corner toward Joe instead of to the spot he indicates.<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme show you," he says after awhile, and takes it from you. His fingers brush over yours. "Like this." He guides it along with seeming expertise, bringing it to rest in the desired spot. He looks up at you sharply from under his ragged bangs. "You're a talented girl," he says with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
"I couldn't get it."<br/>
<br/>
"Most people can't, not at first. It takes a lot of practice." He puts it away. "I'm really glad I met you, Melody," he says. "Especially after talking to you just now." His eyes glint, but there's a gravity to them. "I wondered about you, almost as soon as I met you. I'd really like to continue our talk back at my place." He puts his hands over yours.<br/>
<br/>
"Why? That old black magic?" Your heart is beating hard; you don't want to get trapped with him, and Melody, despite her attraction to him, is similarly suspicious.<br/>
<br/>
"A kind of black magic," he says. "But Blackwell's kind, if I can be honest with you."<br/>
<br/>
You suppress a shudder of surprise at the way he's linked Blackwell with black magic in a way that doesn't sound coincidental. <br/>
<br/>
"I'll level with you, Melody," he says. "The professor really is not good for you. In fact, I'm pretty sure he means you a lot of harm."<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Joe. He seems very sincere. "I know he seems creepy," you say slowly.<br/>
<br/>
"You've been out to his house. What did you think of it?"<br/>
<br/>
You shift uncomfortably. It's what Melody would do, but it's what you would do too. "It's like a big crypt."<br/>
<br/>
"You think dogs would like to hang out there? What does your gut say about his place, and about him?"<br/>
<br/>
You remember how you felt when you first met him, how you actually turned down his offer to work for him. He meant only to get the <i>Libra</i> back from you, and you strongly suspect that his original idea had been to get rid of you, the way he eventually got rid of Lucy. It was only dumb luck--the fact that you showed some kind of natural talent for magic--that dissuaded him, and persuaded him to take you on as his apprentice.<br/>
<br/>
<i>A sorcerer's apprentice. They always get in trouble,</i> a little voice says in your head.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, but you're not the apprentice anymore. The sorcerer is himself dead. You're the sorcerer now.<br/>
<br/>
<i>And look what happened to the sorcerer,</i> that little voice says. <i>Never mind what happened to Blackwell. Do you want to turn into what he was?</i><br/>
<br/>
Your eye has turned inward, but now it turns outward again, and you see Joe again. His expression mixes concern and sincerity. He seems very serious, too. His mixing of "Blackwell" and "black magic" in the same breath did not feel like a pun on your late mentor's name.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about, Joe?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
He clasps his hands over yours. "Do you trust me, Melody?" He gazes deeply into your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
You feel a sudden, nearly overwhelming desire to confess everything to him, and to see if he'll help you out of what suddenly feels like a hole you've been digging for yourself.</span></div></div>


path: 11221111111212222122212112111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Offer of a Lifetime
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>You do. It wells up like a certainty, not an expression of hope or faith.</i><br/>
<br/>
"I trust you, Joe," you say. "I don't trust Blackwell. I never did--"<br/>
<br/>
The words suddenly seem to be pouring out of you. "And it was mistake to ever get mixed up with him. I didn't mean to do anything to him, but just being around him did it to me. He was going to do something to me, and it was just my dumb luck that I managed to-- To--" Tears are suddenly running from your eyes. <i>Dammit, Melody seems like such a tough cookie, but she's really just nerves strung to the snapping point.</i> "That I managed to do it to him first!" <br/>
<br/>
How long you'd have cried you don't know, but Joe squeezes your hands, and the waterworks suddenly stop. Joe stares at you with grave sympathy. "I'm a big girl, and I will tell the truth without crying," he says. You frown with puzzlement, until he explains. "Just repeat what I said," he says. "The best way to deal with bad things, is to tell them that you're not going to be scared of them. Say it out loud, and you'll believe it. Repeat after me: I'm a big girl, and I will tell the truth without crying." He squeezes your fingers gently.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm--" You gasp, for the words are going to sound strange coming from Will Prescott. "I'm a big girl, and I will tell the truth without crying." To your surprise, it seems to work, for you feel a surge of strength and calmness. Joe smiles at you encouragingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, first thing to say is, I hope you believe in magic," you say. "Real magic, I mean."<br/>
<br/>
"I do," he says, and smiles warmly. "I know lots about such stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"In that case--" Oddly, you are sure he won't laugh or sneer at what you feel compelled to say next. So you say it very simply and directly. "I'm not a big girl, actually. My name is Will Prescott, and I'm a guy."<br/>
<br/>
A glint comes into his eye. "You go to school at Westside, right? You work at Blackwell's in the afternoon?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you croak. "How did you--" He shushes you, and bids you continue. "Well, I guess it all started when I went out to Arnholm's Used Bookstore about a month ago."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's very easy to talk, and you feel more and more relief the longer you talk. Joe listens with a rapt fascination, and there's no judgment in his eyes, even when you describe how you trapped Blackwell upstairs and sent him to his doom, and how you trapped Yumi and Melody under masks of themselves. Nor does he flinch when you talk about the <i>anima</i> band and how you put it on Melody so you could come out here to pump him for information. Only when you draw to an end does a something like fear return to you, for you now are completely exposed to someone whose background and intentions are utterly opaque to you.<br/>
<br/>
But his smile is gracious when you're done. "You really were honest with me, Prescott," he murmurs, using your name as though it were you and not a simulacrum of Melody sitting in front of him. "I don't think I'd even have had to force you."<br/>
<br/>
"Force me?" you echo, feeling real alarm.<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind," he says. He lays one of his hands on that golden disc, and upon the placement he'd been scribbling on. "And don't worry. You're in for a wonderful surprise."<br/>
<br/>
You can't help feeling doubt about the word "wonderful," for you're not in the mood for surprises.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll tell you about myself now," he continues. "My name really is Joe. Well, not really, but that's what everyone has called me for years. Blackwell was a black magician. I guess you could call me a white magician. There's a group of us. Maybe Blackwell mentioned them to you? The <i>Stellae Errantes?</i>" You shake your head. "Maybe he's never heard of us. It's not like we'd ever heard of him until a few months ago."<br/>
<br/>
"Why are you interested in Blackwell?"<br/>
<br/>
"We weren't. We were interested in that book you found, the <i>Libra Personae.</i> It's a bad book, and we were trying to get it back, so we could hide it where no one could ever use it again. But that's really not important right now. What's important is <i>you,</i> and what's going to happen to you."<br/>
<br/>
Now fear does rise, to choke you.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought there was something a little funny about Melody when I met her, but <i>you're</i> the one that met me here tonight," he continues. "And you're the one that answered my questions and played my little games. I don't think you were totally honest. You were pretending to be Melody. But you were honest enough that I could see what you were." He smiles and leans across the table at you. "Blackwell told you that there are natural-born magicians. He was right. There are, and I'm one of them. So are you, Prescott. You are one of the rarest and most powerful kind there are. There's only one place for people like you and me. You're going to have to become a member of our society. You're going to have to become a <i>Stellae.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He'd talked more, a lot more, about some very tricky and secret stuff. You'd suggested at one point that you go some place private, but he'd shaken his head. "You can trust me," he'd said. "But you'll trust me more if I insist on us staying out in public." He'd stopped holding and touching you after your confession to being a dude, but he remains gentle and courteous.<br/>
<br/>
As for what he'd said:<br/>
<br/>
There are various ways that people can do magic. Most of them are like Blackwell: they get it out of books. Others have a knack that arises out of a quirk of their being. Sometimes it's something in their <i>imago;</i> more typically it's something in their <i>essentia.</i> So it is with those magicians that he calls <i>Stellae:</i> Their <i>essentia</i> resonates with the planets. ("The wandering stars," he'd translated the name of their society.) "Each planet confers its special gifts," he explains. "Each of us have two planets. There are only a few dozen of us, and because we each have a different pair, we each have our own unique abilities that arise from their blending."<br/>
<br/>
Given what you've studied recently, you are able to follow it all pretty well.<br/>
<br/>
"For hundreds, even thousands of years, the <i>Stellae</i> have existed as a secret order. We're good guys. We don't try to conquer the world. We try to protect it, because there are a lot of bad things out there. Monsters. Things that descend from other planes of existence. Bad men, like Blackwell. Artifacts, like the <i>Libra.</i> It's a dangerous existence, but it's fun too. Like the secretest, coolest club in the world." At that point, he'd reached out to squeeze your hand again: not from affection, but from excitement. "You will <i>love</i> being in it."<br/>
<br/>
"But how do I join?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"We ask you to join. You don't have to, but you'll want to. You'll be happier inside it, because you're <i>made</i> to belong inside it. Isn't that what you said you felt, when you realized that everything Blackwell had was now yours?" You nod. "That's what it's like, but even more so. You weren't <i>made</i> to have Blackwell's stuff. That's just a shitty copy of the real stuff. The things that excite you, that you want to do, we can show you, teach you. And you'll be able to do such amazing things with them. And you'll be doing <i>good</i> things with them. Not selfish things, like Blackwell was doing. And you won't have to be afraid of anything, like what ate Blackwell. Because the rest of us will be there to watch your back. And you'll be there to help us."<br/>
<br/>
His face and his eyes shine brighter and brighter as he talks, and you can't help being swept up in his enthusiasm. But you're not so overborne that you don't ask after the alternative. "You said I don't have to join. What will happen if I don't?"<br/>
<br/>
A flicker of disappointment shows in his face. "You don't want to turn us down, dude," he says. "It'd be like saying you don't want to come down on Christmas morning."<br/>
<br/>
"I just want to understand everything," you stammer.<br/>
<br/>
"Well," he sighs. " We won't leave you with what you've got now. All the people you copied and enslaved? They'd have to go free. We'd take all of Blackwell's things away, probably burn his house down. We'd definitely take the <i>Libra</i> from you. You'd go back to your normal life. You'd find it very boring. We'd leave you our contact info, because, frankly, you'd almost certainly go so mad with boredom you'd come back and ask us to join. If you didn't, well--" He shrugs. "You'd make your peace with being a normal, boring, regular old dude. Oh," he adds. "We'd also figure out a way to take that hex off you, so you wouldn't have to worry about that."<br/>
<br/>
From somewhere below the table, a phone tweets. You grab at your book bag, but it's not Melody's. Joe takes out his phone, checks it briefly, and turns it off. <br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to decide right away," he says with a quizzical smile. "But honestly, this is the kind of thing where you should trust your gut. A snap decision is going to be correct one. It's not a rational choice, where you have to weigh up the pros and cons. It's an <i>existential</i> choice. And second thoughts are just going to cloud the clarity you have at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
"So what's it going to be, Will?" He puts out his hand. "Are you going to join us?"</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121111
author_id: seuzz
title: The Offer That You Accept
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"How big is this society you're talking about?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"A coupla dozen people, scattered all over the world," Joe says. "But most of us only deal with the same dozen people. We each have our niche, so we mostly see people we fit in with."<br/>
<br/>
"And where would I fit in?" You're cautious, but intrigued.<br/>
<br/>
"You fit in with people that you like. I don't mean it's full of cliques, like in high school," he hastily adds. "But Dad-- We call him 'Dad,' me and my brother, because he raised us. Anyway, he's the head of the order, and he always puts people where they'd be happy, where they'd want to be."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't know where I'd want to be."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to know. You have aptitudes. We each do. That's the great thing about being a <i>Stellae.</i> We have aptitudes, and we're happiest when we're working with them. Dad will figure out your aptitudes, and he'll put you where you'll be happiest. It's amazingly simple."<br/>
<br/>
"I still--"<br/>
<br/>
"Look, you said earlier that you felt like you found what you were made for. When you realized you had all of Blackwell's stuff." You nod, embarrassed and even a little ashamed at having laid claim to the work of a black magician. "Well, what was it that appealed to you? I think I can guess," he adds shrewdly.<br/>
<br/>
You shrug your hands. "Having his library. His tools. Projects to work on. I was really interested in some of the things I was studying and making. Working with sigils. Inventing new ones, taking old ones apart to see how they work." Joe's eyes gleam as you talk. "I made a couple of things. Some with the book--" You remember that <i>anima</i> band you put on Melody. "But others that I just invented."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I made this little bowl." You gesture with your hands. "You put paper into it, and it burns it. But you don't need a match. It just turns the paper into ash. I was using it to get rid of scrap paper, because--"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, you don't want to leave scratchings around," Joe says. His eyebrows go up. "That sounds really nifty, Prescott. I coulda used something like myself when I was studying. And you made it yourself?" You nod. "Idea, blueprint, execution?" You nod again. "Did you have fun making it?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over his shoulder. You didn't have "fun," not like playing a videogame, but there was something deeply satisfying about it. "It just felt natural," you say lamely.<br/>
<br/>
"Exactly!" Joe exclaims. "That's what I'm talking about. Dad would see that that's what you'd enjoy doing, and that's the kind of job he'd give you."<br/>
<br/>
"Just tinkering with stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of. You know that gadget guy in the James Bond movies?"<br/>
<br/>
"John Cleese?"<br/>
<br/>
"Is he--? Yeah. We <i>Stellae</i> need things like that our mission. We have a kind of one-man R&amp;D department. You might wind up working with him. Making stuff for us, studying the artifacts we bring in, tinkering around for your own amusement." You must have frowned, for Joe swerves a little. "Or maybe not." He taps the placement he'd been scribbling on. "This told me you'd like tinkering, but--"<br/>
<br/>
"What was that?"<br/>
<br/>
"A kind of diagnostic, tells me what you're suited for. The <i>Stellae</i> are linked to planets. That's what gives us our special stuff. One of your planets is the one associated with machines and gadgets and tinkering around. But we've all got two planets. Your other planet--it's the Moon, actually--has other qualities. Your gifts are a blend of the two, so you might wind up doing something else."<br/>
<br/>
He's left you a little lost, but it sounds inviting. "If you say this is really what I was made for--"<br/>
<br/>
"It is, dude, it is!"<br/>
<br/>
"Then I guess I'm willing to give it a whirl."<br/>
<br/>
"Most excellent!" Joe grins broadly, and gets up. "Let's go tell Frank. This is the most awesome end to an adventure <i>ever!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Frank, he explains, is his brother and partner. "Adoptive brother," he says. "We grew up together, so that's how we think of each other. He's cool, but-- Don't let him throw you. He's kind of serious."<br/>
<br/>
That proves an understatement. Frank is tall and big, and you flinch back a little from him when he steps forward to greet you. He has dark hair and dark eyes, and his expression settles naturally into a watchful frown. This is not someone to lie to, you can tell. "Frank," Joe says as he puts his arm around you. "This is Will. Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"Will, huh?" Frank says. "Is that short for Wilhemina?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," you stammer. "I, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're wearing a mask, aren't you?" he says. "I've seen Will Prescott going in and out of Blackwell's place, and you don't look like him."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," Joe chortles. "Pretty cool getting a close up look at those masks in action, isn't it? Can't tell there's anything funky, can you?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's god damned impressive, I'll give it that, Joe," Frank says. "So what's the story?"<br/>
<br/>
You shift nervously as Joe relates it: How you were the apprentice to Aubrey Blackwell, and inherited his stuff when the man gotten eaten by his own watchdog, and how you're actually a <i>Stellae</i> and want to join the society.<br/>
<br/>
Frank doesn't grow any warmer, but he doesn't sound hostile. "He'd be coming in a little late, wouldn't he?" he says. "And after picking up some bad Habits."<br/>
<br/>
"These things happen," Joe says. "Leave it to Dad."<br/>
<br/>
Frank shrugs. "So if you're really on the level with us, Prescott, you're going to help us fix everything. Right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
"I mean, all those people you hijacked. You're going to let them go."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course."<br/>
<br/>
"And you're going to give us the <i>Libra.</i> You're also going to let us ransack Blackwell's place and get rid of all the nasty shit." His eyebrows go up fractionally.<br/>
<br/>
"Stop treating him like a criminal, Frank," Joe says.<br/>
<br/>
"That's what he's been, Joe."<br/>
<br/>
"He just got in over his head. Think of the trouble <i>I</i> mighta got up to if Dad hadn't found me in time."<br/>
<br/>
"I do, Joe. It gives me nightmares." Frank gives his brother a look; Joe makes a face back. "But if he's on the level, it'll all be fine. Won't it, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You can't help bridling at this treatment. "I told you I'd help," you say, and don't hide the surliness in your tone. "Are <i>you</i> guys on the level? Joe says you're white magicians, that you're good guys. Am I supposed to trust <i>you</i>? Because you're right, there's some nasty shit out at Blackwell's, and if you guys are--"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you hungry, Prescott," Joe interrupts. "I'm starved. How about you hang out here at our place while me and Frank go pick up some burgers. You can get out of that mask. I've got some clothes you can put on."<br/>
<br/>
Frank snorts as Joe tugs you back into a messy bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
"You talk really good, Joe," you say as he closes the door. You're frightened, but you can't stop from babbling angrily. "But if your brother out there is--"<br/>
<br/>
"My brother's an asshole," he says. "And I'm going off with him so I can yell at him. Please don't mind him, Will." He puts his hands on your shoulders and looks gravely into your face. "He's always had this holier-than-thou attitude. But it's just an attitude." You kick at the floor. "Just do what he says-- No, scratch that. Do what <i>I</i> say. I'll try to act like a buffer." He squeezes your shoulder. "You said you trusted me."<br/>
<br/>
"I know."<br/>
<br/>
"Then keep trusting me." He squeezes your shoulder again. "Come on, get out of that mask before I try to kiss you. That's what I do with girls who trust me." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's gone when you wake up, but he's left some shorts and a t-shirt out for you. They want to fall off your lanky frame, and you clutch them as you return to the main part of the house. The guys are gone, but they return before long with a small and very unhealthy feast. Frank gives you a keen, appraising look as he and Joe spread the food out on the floor, but he smiles. "I'm sorry if I was acting like a jerk earlier," he says. "But we came out to Saratoga Falls to get that book back and to stop people from using it. So I naturally assumed anyone who had it was going to be bad news. You look like you're okay, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Thanks," you mutter, and shove some fries in your mouth.<br/>
<br/>
Joe takes over the talk, chattering and babbling about plans: The three of you will go out to Blackwell's tomorrow to look the place over and release Melody and Yumi. You ask what you'll do about the homeless guy you've got under the mask of yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"He has to go free too," Frank says. "Even if he's got a crappy life, it's his. I suppose we can wait until we leave town before doing that, though. You can help us clean out Blackwell's. After that, we'll take off for Olympia."<br/>
<br/>
And suddenly brings an important issue to the fore. "What are we going to tell my family?" you ask. "I can't just disappear."<br/>
<br/>
Frank and Joe look at each other. "Fuck," Joe says. "I hadn't thought of that."<br/>
<br/>
"That's for Dad to decide," says Frank. "But you're right, you can't just disappear, the way Joe--"<br/>
<br/>
"But you can't tell your folks about us either," Joe interrupts. "We're a super-secret club."<br/>
<br/>
But Joe's interruption hasn't stopped you from noticing what Frank said. "Uh, you said you guys were 'adopted'," you say. "What, were you both orphans?"<br/>
<br/>
They shift uneasily. "I was," Frank says. "Joe got kidnapped, but that was a special situation."<br/>
<br/>
"Kidnapped?" you gasp. Now you're definitely having second thoughts about this set up.<br/>
<br/>
"It was a special thing with me," Joe says. "You can't get kidnapped, Prescott." He looks at Frank. "I suppose we could leave a fake Prescott behind. That mask of his--"<br/>
<br/>
"Or we could wait for Dad to have an idea," Frank says.</span></div></div>


path: 112211111112122221222121121112
author_id: seuzz
title: The Offer That You Refuse
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Even if you didn't feel wary of this offer, all the joy of playing with magic has drained from you. So much stress, so much fear, so much paranoia; and the memory of what happened to Blackwell preys upon you. Joe wants you to speak quickly, so you do: "I think I'm sick of magic," you say quietly.<br/>
<br/>
He looks very grave and regretful, and he sighs. "So that's what your gut says. I'm sorry to hear that. You really were made for what I'm offering you."<br/>
<br/>
"I appreciate it--" you start to say, but he waves you silent.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't try to talk yourself out of it. Not yet. We'll leave you our contact info. And we'll be around for a few days, maybe even a few weeks. Keep listening to your gut, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"What happens now?"<br/>
<br/>
"We go find my brother, tell him about all this." He gets up. "I can't wait to see his face when we tell him about you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Joe's brother is a real contrast. Where Joe is sweet and a little goofy, Frank is dark-haired and dark-eyed and sour and stern. You meet him at the boys' house--"A little place we've been renting," Joe explains as you pull up--and he listens to Joe and then to you for almost thirty minutes without speaking. His eyes are flinty, and he keeps his arms crossed the whole time. When you're done, and tell him your decision to stay in Saratoga Falls, he only says one thing: "You're an idiot."<br/>
<br/>
"I know I fucked things up, did things to people," you start.<br/>
<br/>
"He means you're an idiot for not going with us," Joe says. "Isn't that what you meant, Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. How about you get out of that mask, Prescott. You can put on some of Joe's things."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going back to Blackwell's?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the morning. You can spend the night here, since you say you've a double who can go home for you."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pass a restless night in Joe's bed--he takes the sofa--and they rouse you early. You spend a few hours at Blackwell's with them, giving them a tour and showing off all the stuff that has to be dealt with, and giving them the book. Joe then drives you back to their place. "We'll start releasing your victims tonight," he says. "You don't need to supervise while we take his villa apart. Strewth, that's gonna be the work of a week."<br/>
<br/>
So that's how the week passes: Mostly you spend it at the boys' house, watching TV and surfing the internet and fighting off terrible, mind-crushing boredom, while they work at Blackwell's. They release Melody--Joe just tells you he was able to say "a few words over her" to give her a sense of normality so she wouldn't notice the missed days she was under your control--and you call Yumi out so they can do the same for her. Your golem continues to live your life. <br/>
<br/>
You spend one day at Blackwell's with them, looking over the results of their exertions. They've sorted most of the library, and have burned a lot of the books. They've also somehow gotten rid of the <i>gwarcheidwad</i>. You point out a few things that they've missed.<br/>
<br/>
On the fifth day since your confession, a strange man shows up. He's small, with close-cropped, wiry gray hair and eyes that twinkle behind tiny, rimless glasses. Joe introduces him as Nash Carnes, one of their associates. "He'll get that hex off you."<br/>
<br/>
"Chammed to meet ya," Nash says in a strong Northeastern accent. "Heer the gypsies been at ya."<br/>
<br/>
"Black magician," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"Same t'ing, jes' wit' better taste in bangles. Gimme yer pams." He grins at you as he seizes your hands and turns them palm-side up. He peers down at them, stroking them. "Yah, I see what Joe meant."<br/>
<br/>
"The hex?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, 'bout you bein' a Kenandandra."<br/>
<br/>
"What's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Wunna the planets. 'Swear we get our juice, guys like us. Well, you and me get it from Kenandandra. Pat of it, anyway. You good wit' sigils?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"You like t' tinkeh?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really."<br/>
<br/>
"No? Didn' make up any neet li'l magic hoohaws?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah, I made some of those." You describe the fire bowl and a few more things that had impressed Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
Nash whistles. "That sounds reel good f'ra navice. Mind if I take yer knickknacks back as souveneers?" You shrug. "Yeah. The kids say yer stayin' heer. Ganna regret that, you know. I will. You an' me could have sum reel fun togetheh."<br/>
<br/>
"I got in a lot of trouble having 'fun'. I don't want any more of it."<br/>
<br/>
"I unnerstan'. 'Spity. You soun' like a pehfek fit f'r us. Now less see t'dat hex."<br/>
<br/>
He dons some goofball lenses and peers at you all over. "Whew," he says. "At's a nasty one. Dat black magician you was hangin' wit didn' b'leeve in halvsies, did he? Ah well, I seen wuss." He rummages inside a little satchel, and draws out a pair of gardening shears. "Hold still." He snips at your forehead; you only feel the brush of air. "All done," Nash says. "Might wanna put some creem on dat." You rub your forehead worriedly, but he chortles. "Jes' a joke. You comin' back out to dat villa wit' me? The boys're lettin' me rummage true it for doodads. No?" You shake your head. "Well, jes' t'ink about what yer missin'."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Nash's cheerful demeanor is almost enough to make you change your mind about staying behind. Joe is cheerful too, but there's something <i>normal</i> about Nash that you find reassuring. In fact, you <i>might</i> have changed your mind, if he had come back by the house to see you before leaving town. But he took off without even saying goodbye. Your sense of disappointment just hardens your preference for steering clear of this society.<br/>
<br/>
The removal of the hex clears the way for your return to your own life; and now you're dreading it. As bad as it was having the hex on you, you realize that your life at school is bound to be ten times worse now that it's off. All the bullies you'd frightened into leaving you alone will be looking for vengeance, now that there's nothing to hold them back. You mention this to Frank and Joe. "Serves you right," Frank growls. After six days, he still hasn't warmed to you.<br/>
<br/>
Joe punches his brother. "Stop that. It's not his fault. Blackwell tricked him there."<br/>
<br/>
"He shouldn't have--"<br/>
<br/>
"He shouldn't have what, Frank? He shouldn't have picked the <i>Libra</i> up off a bookshop shelf? Because that's the only way all of this could have been avoided. And how could Will have <i>seen</i> the consequences of picking up that book?" <br/>
<br/>
Frank gives him a surly glance. "So what are we supposed to do about it? He only has to make it to the end of the school year, and then there's no more problem."<br/>
<br/>
"Easy for you to say, bro. That's seven long months. And you and me know Black and Patterson by reputation. That's two of the guys that hex affected, right?" he asks you.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But how do you know--?"<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't we tell you we've been going to Eastman? We're on their basketball squad. Yeah, we know <i>all</i> about the assholes they got playin' for Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"If I could transfer to Eastman," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, what about that, Frank?" Joe says with sudden enthusiasm. "We're gonna have to drop when we go back home with all of Blackwell's shit. How about this? We leave Prescott's golem in play over at Westside--get the hex off it by making a new mask of Will here--but he stays behind as one of us."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you talking about?" you and Frank say in near unison. He doesn't look amused at the coincidence.<br/>
<br/>
"We make up a mask of me. You drop out, but 'Joe Durras'--" Joe makes huge air quotes with his fingers. "He stays behind. It's Will underneath, having fun as me." He waggles his eyebrows at you. "And I have <i>fun,</i> brah!"<br/>
<br/>
Frank turns white. Probably with anger, possibly with horror, and maybe with both. "That's the <i>sickest thing</i> you've ever suggested, Joe," he shouts. "And you've had some really fucked up ideas in your time."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," Joe drawls, and giggles. "Remember my idea for booby-trapping the monsignor's bed?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're talking about giving Prescott--"<br/>
<br/>
"I know exactly what I'm suggesting giving him," Joe says. He switches into another language and jabbers excitedly at Frank, gesturing madly as he does. Frank argues back, but Joe's arguments seem to have some force. He finally throws up his hands and stalks from the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. It's your face, but Dad will have to approve."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course," Joe says. "Call him while I--" He turns to you. "What do you think, Will? Perfect solution."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm trying to get away from magic," you protest. "And the masks. That's how come I'm not going with you!"<br/>
<br/>
"One last fling," Joe says. "It's that or you face Black and them."<br/>
<br/>
You throw yourself onto their sofa. Neither idea appeals to you. Oh, sure, you had fun putting yourself under masks. You wore Jared's form when you didn't have to. And Joe-- You peer at him. He's strong and athletic and handsome. But your gut twists. You resent the idea that "being Joe Durras" could be better than "being Will Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
Joe watches you for a bit, then goes into the kitchen when Frank shouts. There's some kind of conference that lasts for a quarter hour. You sulk on the couch, not even entertaining the offer.<br/>
<br/>
And then Joe swaggers back in. "So, that was our dad, the chief guy in our order. I had to explain it to him, but went for it. Says he won't kick if that's what you want to do. We'd come back next June, send you back to your life. Or--" He rolls his tongue in his cheek and looks puckish.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe that's what this is about. Joe wants you to see things from his point of view, thinking you might change your mind after getting an inside look at things.</span></div></div>


path: 1122111111121222212221211211121
author_id: seuzz
title: A Willing Substitution
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"You're trying to trick me, Joe," you bluntly retort. "You're still trying to talk me into joining your society. Trying to give me an 'inside' take on it."<br/>
<br/>
He turns pink and grins with embarrassment. "Okay, you got me. Trouble with being Arbolean. A light beam is totally transparent." <br/>
<br/>
You don't ask what he means by that. Let him have his fun. Once he's put you in a mask of himself, you'll know exactly what he meant.<br/>
<br/>
"So I guess your answer is still no," he sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"No. I mean, it's yes. I mean-- Okay, I'll do it. But only because I'm scared <i>shitless</i> of what's waiting for me back at Westside."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, any port in a storm," he mutters, but grins. "Come on. The makings are out at Blackwell's."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He chatters and jabbers all the way out. "I dunno why I'm telling you all this," he says gaily. "You'll know it all in a bit. Anyway, me and Frank are pulling up stakes tomorrow. We were gonna go by the school, tell 'em we were quitting--"<br/>
<br/>
"What were you going to tell them?"<br/>
<br/>
"That our mom suddenly got custody of us. Yeah, we've been telling people we're living with our dad, who's always traveling. I guess Frank will go in with you tomorrow and just quit himself. I guess Mom's only gonna get custody of him. Poor Mom." He laughs. "Anyway, yeah, we're taking off tomorrow, but you'll know how to contact us."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Blackwell's place? Weren't you guys going to burn it down?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. We still are. From school Frank'll catch a cab and meet me out there. We'll pack up Blackwell's library and some of the other crap-- Oh, did Nash tell you about the suitcase he left for us?" You shake your head. "It's like something out of Willie Wonka. You can pack it and pack it and there's always room for one more item. You know, he was <i>really</i> impressed with the things you made. Most of that stuff is going in our archives, but he said he's gonna keep that fire bowl thingie you made, use it himself. He called it 'elegant'. Dude!" He punches you in the shoulder. "You know how hard it is to get a compliment out of Nash? Okay, it's real easy. But still!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to lobby me, Joe," you say, rubbing your shoulder. "I'll be getting it inside and out after I get that mask on."<br/>
<br/>
"I hope so! You'll like it. Oh, but there's a few things you should know."<br/>
<br/>
"Won't I know them?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but so it's not a disappointment. You know that masks only copy <i>imago,</i> right? Not <i>essentia.</i> So, I've been using some of my <i>essentia</i> stuff do a little bit better on the basketball court with the guys. You won't be able to do that. You might have to make up a story. Oh, I know! If you ask Frank real nice, he can break your leg so you don't have to play." He laughs again.<br/>
<br/>
You suspect Frank wouldn't need a second request from you to hurt you, and say so.<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, that's just Frank's manner. You'll see. You're gonna miss him once you're in my mask. Yeah," he adds when you don't reply. "He's a <i>lot</i> of fun to goof on. You're gonna be like Curly without Moe, Lou without Bud, Gracie without George."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?"<br/>
<br/>
"Never mind. Dad only ever watched old movies. Well, here we are."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell's house feels empty, dead, despite being furnished, for Joe and Frank have banished the various magics that wrapped it. Where it once felt sinister, now it feels forlorn. The halls rattle hollowly as you trudge along them to the workroom, where Joe makes up a mask; he leaves the polishing--with the car buffer he'd brought along--to you while he makes up a mind band in the library. "Are you going to leave <i>any</i> of this stuff behind," you ask when you bring the finished mask in.<br/>
<br/>
"I figure that mask there will be temptation enough," he says. "Seriously, if I've calculated this right, inside a week you'll be calling Dad, telling him you're ready to start your training."<br/>
<br/>
"We'll see."<br/>
<br/>
Joe stretches out on the one table not piled with books and drops the new mask onto his face. It vanishes. You look at him for a bit. His face is lean and taut, and seems to shine with a veiled, golden light. <i>That'll be his </i>essentia, you reflect. You won't have everything he's got. But it'll be enough to pull off the impersonation that will save you from having to face the music back at Westside, which is the only reason you're doing this.<br/>
<br/>
While he's unconscious, you pull off your own clothes, and put on the extra set of his clothes that he'd brought along. They drape loosely over your stick-like frame.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The blood courses through your veins like quicksilver, and a golden haze seems to settle about you. You blink your eyes open, and feel your lips twitch as you look at the ceiling from under hooded lids. "So, how is it?" a voice says from the side.<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Joe. His eyes are narrow, and his smile sharp. You want to leap to your feet and pummel him playfully; but you also don't want to give him the satisfaction. "It's nice," you grudgingly allow. You sit up a little more quickly than you'd intended, and leap lightly to your feet in a crouch.<br/>
<br/>
Joe takes a wary step back.<br/>
<br/>
"Whatsamatter, Durras," you softly ask. "You look like--"<br/>
<br/>
"I think I know what I look like, and I think I know what I'm thinking when I'm looking like <i>that,</i>" he says, and falls into a little crouch of his own. "Think you can catch me, Prescott?"<br/>
<br/>
You spring at him, but he's on the other side of the room with a laugh. You'd anticipated that, though, and quickly dodge toward him. But again he easily slips your lunge. "Fuck you!" you shout, for you can't get your feet to move with the speed your instincts say should naturally be yours. "Hold still!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, tough guy," he grins, and flicks his fingers. "Take me if you can."<br/>
<br/>
You jump and grab him about the torso; the two of you spin in place and crash into a bookshelf. He grunts and writhes from your grip, then catches you behind the neck and flings you across a table. You turn the fall into a slide off the other side and turn to leap back over the desk. But in mid tumble you change your mind and turn the acrobatics into a hand stand, wobbling for a bit before finding your balance. Your shirt falls down over your face.<br/>
<br/>
"This is fun, isn't it?" Joe says from nearby. You look to the side, and find him in an identical handstand at your shoulder. "I always wanted a twin. Most Viritrilbians have one, you know, but I--"<br/>
<br/>
"You have a twin, Joe," you retort. "That goofy ghost."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Dad says--"<br/>
<br/>
"--that you were probably twins, but merged in the womb--"<br/>
<br/>
"--and that's how come I can do that astral projection trick."<br/>
<br/>
"And Father Ed--"<br/>
<br/>
"Asshole."<br/>
<br/>
"--says you've got enough energy for two anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I'd say you got me," Joe says. He starts to scat-sing a complicated tune. You instantly recognize it, and pick up the second voice of the invention. He ups the tempo, but you chase him in perfect synchronicity. Your arms are trembling and your face is bursting long before you reach the climax, but you'll be damned if you let him outlast you, singing counterpoint in a handstand in the abandoned house of a dead black magician.<br/>
<br/>
Plainly he's having the same thought. Maybe by some unspoken communication you agree to give up simultaneously, for you both fall off the table while still in perfect synch.<br/>
<br/>
Joe blows and puffs, and you do too. "So which of us is going back to see Frank?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not both of us? It'd be more fun that way."<br/>
<br/>
"No it wouldn't. Let Frank wonder which one came home." He slaps you good-naturedly. You slap him back. It escalates into another wrestling match.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm back!" you holler, slamming the door behind you.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. I'm going to bed." Frank rises from the dining room table and heads for the sliding glass door.<br/>
<br/>
"Aren't you going to ask <i>who</i> exactly is back?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not playing your fucking mind game, whoever you are," he retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh come on! The only reason I--"<br/>
<br/>
He flips you off and vanishes into the darkness of the back yard, to meditate and sleep.<br/>
<br/>
You snort and make yourself a snack and plop onto the sofa. You turn on the TV but leave the sound off. It's more fun making up dialogue to the lip flaps, and you shift voices and accents. Sometimes you do Joe's voice, and sometimes you do a nasty parody of Frank's. You do Father Ed--the nasally twang of the <i>Stellae's</i> spiritual counselor is ripe for mockery--and Groucho and Christopher Walken and William Shatner and a bunch of other celebrities, all pitch perfect. You even do Will Prescott--whine and all--for a patch. But it just turns to babble as you quickly grow bored.<br/>
<br/>
Joe finds it hard to concentrate on anything for very long, you rapidly find.<br/>
<br/>
He wants you to dig into his memories of the <i>Stellae,</i> but you're not going to oblige him, not yet. But you can't keep your mind off the magic. Joe is an Arbolean, which means he is skilled at magical theory. You're a Kenandandran, which means you're good at the practical stuff. Joe and Will would be a good pair, you reflect; it's one reason Joe wants you to join.<br/>
<br/>
You pick up a sketch pad and doodle in it. You're halfway through it when you recognize what you're drawing: It's one of the sigils from the <i>Libra.</i> Joe has a photographic memory, and had studied the spells closely. Well, no harm in finishing it. The sigils are locked into the <i>Libra,</i> and any you draw will only be pretty designs.<br/>
<br/>
But as you finish the last curl, Joe's practiced eye catches a little flash. You peer closely at what you've drawn, and feel the hairs on your neck rise. There's a silvery sheen to the line work.<br/>
<br/>
The sigil, you realize with a beating heart, is live.</span></div></div>


