# chapters

path: 112221121211122122221121222
author_id: seuzz
title: A Breakthrough of Some Kind
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"And what could I do that could help people?" you quietly ask. "I can take Chelsea down," you answer before he can offer an alternative. "That would make life better for lots of people." You look over at him. "You could help, too. <i>Gordon</i> could be nicer to people."<br/>
<br/>
"People like Morgana?" he asks in a neutral tone.<br/>
<br/>
"People like everybody. Maybe stop some of that bullshit that Jason and Dalton and Lester Pozniak get up to."<br/>
<br/>
"I already promised to do that, didn't I?" he says. He looks over at you. "And what's the school going to be like when <i>you're</i> running it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," you say restlessly. "Maybe I don't run it. Maybe we just have lots of spirit days and whatever." <br/>
<br/>
"You can't do more, with all your witch power?" There's a challenging--even sarcastic--note in that phrase "witch power."<br/>
<br/>
"It doesn't work like that," you reply. "Anyway, I've done about all I know how to do. Switching people around."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Except you're not even a quarter of the way into the book. It's got you stymied: there's a page missing.<br/>
<br/>
Well, half a page, right after the spell that lets you put a golem shell inside a mask. The next page has had its bottom half torn away. The top half has a list of ingredients, but there are no instructions on how to put them together or what to do with them, and there's no sigil, which is the really important part of any spell. There's only a clean tear. Under the half page you can see part of the next spell, but the words and characters are indistinct and fuzzy, and shift about on the page. Without completing the spell on the torn page you cannot turn it and get at the next spell or any subsequent spells. <br/>
<br/>
You've ignored it thus far, because the first seven spells in the book have been perfectly sufficient to have lots of fun and do lots of work. But after the talk with Gordon ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Cheerleading practice the next morning goes very smoothly, though it is very subdued. A dark cloud hangs over the proceedings: Chelsea, for the first time in memory, is absent. You run things briskly, and with lots of encouragement, and Lin and Yumi and the Garner twins particularly blossom; golem-Michelle also does well enough, though her original was never very talented to begin with. Maria is entirely proficient, though you treat her with no more than cool professionalism. Kendra and Gloria are the ones who seem most uncomfortable. "How about you try making nice with Yumi and them," you murmur to Kendra when you find yourself next to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, but you should know--"<br/>
<br/>
"Does Gloria know whatever it is?" you interrupt. She nods. "Then I'll ask her. You go be nice."<br/>
<br/>
A moment eventually arrives when you think you can pull your other confederate aside without it looking odd: She does a handstand that looks a little awkward. "How about the rest of you try practicing that formation," you say. "I'll work with Gloria a moment. You draw her off to the side.<br/>
<br/>
"Kendra says I need to know something," you tell her softly while gesticulating like you're showing her how to balance. "What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea's off talking to Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"So let her talk. All she can do is exchange oxygen for carbon dioxide."<br/>
<br/>
"She's going to try using Seth as a card."<br/>
<br/>
You do a handstand of your own. "Grab my hips, then come down here." She dutifully touches your sides, and kneels down. "How does she think she's going to use Seth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon got him to break up with you. She's going to threaten to start going out with Seth."<br/>
<br/>
"So what? That won't get him back."<br/>
<br/>
"And she's going to tell Seth that Gordon broke you guys up so he could get you."<br/>
<br/>
You smoothly come out of the handstand, and tug down your tunic as you stand. "She's clever, but it's not going to do any good."<br/>
<br/>
"It'll be a mess, Cindy."<br/>
<br/>
"So it'll be a mess. Seth and Chelsea deserve each other."<br/>
<br/>
"What if Seth tries rallying the rest of the basketball team against Gordon? He's not popular."<br/>
<br/>
You snort, and then pause. Marcy might not have it in her to be as ruthless as Gordon would be. And if Steve thinks his friend is acting like a pussy ...<br/>
<br/>
You motion Gloria to do a handstand of her own. You light grasp her legs as she goes up. "The plan is for Chelsea to get together with Cameron," you mutter, thinking aloud. "If we can advance the timing on that ... Oh, much better, Gloria!" you say in a loud tone. "You were real good before, but this is excellent!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You intercept Gordon before he can get to the cafeteria for lunch--it's your first real chance to talk to him before you share a fifth period class with him. "Can we go off and eat together, just the two of us," you ask as you run a fingertip along the top of his ass. <br/>
<br/>
"I was gonna give Douglas a polishing," he says, then puts an arm around you. "But okay." He glances at the cafeteria. "I'm gonna be starving before the end of school, though."<br/>
<br/>
You find a spot out on the main quad, middle of the grass where the two of you can be seen together, but apart from all the other knots of students. You sit cross-legged, facing each other, knees touching, and hold each other hands while leaning forward. "Did Chelsea have a talk with you first period," you ask him carefully, remembering the scene in the car yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"She tried to. I brushed her off." He turns your hands over in his and tickles your palms. "I had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to say, and--"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you didn't. I heard from Gloria and Kendra this morning." You tell him what they told you. "What do you think? Could Seth cause you problems?"<br/>
<br/>
"He could try," he shrugs. "But Coach Porter lets me do whatever I want."<br/>
<br/>
"You'd have to treat him pretty rough," you warn him. "Seth, I mean. He's going to take it real personal, if he's not taking it that way already."<br/>
<br/>
"He was an asshole this morning, that's for sure," Gordon says. "But I gave it to Steve to handle."<br/>
<br/>
"That's another thing. Steve called me last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh?" His eyebrow goes up. "I was supposed to tell you about Morgana, but you weren't going to tell me about Steve."<br/>
<br/>
"Stop it." You lean in and kiss him tenderly. "He's worried about you, about me and you. He thinks--" You laugh dryly. "He thinks me and Chelsea are using you to fight each other."<br/>
<br/>
"Steve's not an idiot," he laughs in turn. "You are."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," you sigh. "That's why we need to make this really convincing." You press your hands softly against his cheeks. "If Seth makes trouble, and Steve thinks you're losing your grip--"<br/>
<br/>
"You're still thinking about Morgana," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not. Really. You can do what you want there, I've decided. I just want you to know what all is going on, so you can figure out if it's something that, well--"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm smarter at this than Gordon was," he says, and briefly bites at your hand. "Remember who you're talking to."<br/>
<br/>
"Just keep Steve in mind. You think he's got your back, but I don't think I'd trust him."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're thinking of putting Daniella in for him." He regards you gravely, and shakes his head. "He's not her type."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who is?" You sag with impatience, and kick yourself for following up on that tiresome, insoluble problem.<br/>
<br/>
"Back at Eastman it would be Karter. You saw how she acted around him. Jon Straussler. Joe Durras."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know those people."<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know our archrivals?" he grins. "What kind of cheerleader are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"But what about here at Westside?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know," he sighs. "I actually don't know that many people. Maybe we should make it Steve." He leans in and gives you a big kiss. "That's for show and tell," he says as he straightens up, then rises. "I gotta get something to eat."<br/>
<br/>
You twitch at the hem of his shorts as he goes, and he winks back at you. You look around, feeling exposed and watched. Away to the side, by one of the wings, you see Chelsea hobbling away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get your homework done early that afternoon, then turn to the <i>Libra</i> and the troublesome page. A closer look shows that you were slightly mistaken about the "list of ingredients": one of them isn't an ingredient, but seems to be an instruction. Your heart skips; maybe the book isn't seriously damaged; maybe this <i>is</i> the complete spell. You run the single, gnomic line through several translation programs, and all return a variation on the same idea: "My use is the solution"; "use me to solve me."<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't seem helpful. Of course, the solution to turning the page is to use the spell; that's the way it is with all the other spells. You can't turn a page until you complete the spell <i>on</i> that page. You slam the book shut. "Why do you have to be such an asshole," you mutter at it.<br/>
<br/>
And then you realize what you just said: You referred to the book as "you." The hair goes up on your neck. Maybe the "me" in the spell is also the book.<br/>
<br/>
The ingredients come together to make a mind band. You lay it on the book's spine, and it vanishes into it. When it returns, it bears a symbol that makes your eyes hurt. Quickly you open the book and lay the band upon the torn page. The bottom half generates, and the page easily turns.</span></div></div>


path: 1122211212112
author_id: seuzz
title: New Heads on Old Muscles
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You keep a close eye on Caleb and Keith over the next few days, looking for a plausible excuse to strike up a conversation with them. It comes on a Wednesday, when between third and fourth period you and Lin Pol spot The Molester outside, roughly patting down Caleb. You stop and give him a critical stare. He eventually spots you, and smirks as he takes Caleb in a tight headlock. Why he would think this would impress you?<br/>
<br/>
"You know, I don't have a problem with faggots," you sniff, turning to Lin. "But I don't understand Lester's taste in guys."<br/>
<br/>
The smile slides off Lester's face. "What did you say?"<br/>
<br/>
"You heard me. I said you like touching boys."<br/>
<br/>
Lester lets go of Caleb; the latter doesn't move, and just continues to stare stonily ahead. But the Molester—who is very big—comes forward and leans over you. "Well, you know, I heard you broke up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Seth's not the type to give you a reach-around," you say. "He'll give it to you up the ass, though, and you won't even have to beg."<br/>
<br/>
He glowers. "I bet you loved taking it up the ass."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. I can tell you all about it too, if you want. Give you sweet dreams when you fantasize about taking his cock yourself."<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you think he's going to hit you, but he suddenly seems aware that Lin is also there, watching him closely. He just leans in and snarls, "You can bite me, you bitch," and swaggers away.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay, Caleb?" you ask. He shrugs and doesn't meet your eye. Being rescued by a girl must really suck. "Where are your friends?" He shrugs again and stares at his feet. "What happened to that one guy you used to hang out with? Preston?"<br/>
<br/>
"Prescott," he says quietly. "Will. He moved schools or something."<br/>
<br/>
Lin nudges you. "He's the guy in the newspaper," she says quietly. "Disappeared?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my God!" you exclaim, and put your hand to your mouth. "I'm so sorry. He was your friend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I guess," Caleb says. He seems even more uncomfortable, if that is possible.<br/>
<br/>
You put your arms around him and squeeze him tightly; he stiffens. "I'm so sorry. I've heard people talking about him, but ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he wouldn't have been on your radar." Caleb's tone isn't unfriendly, exactly but there's an edge to it.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your phone number," you ask, letting go of him and taking out your own phone. He blinks and stumbles, but finally gets it out. "I'll call you some time," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"You shouldn't lead him on like that, Cindy," Lin mutters after you're on your way again. "It's not nice."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not leading him on. He just looks so lost, like a puppy. I'm not, like, serious about him."<br/>
<br/>
"He won't know that, so it's still leading him on."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Whether Caleb knows what to expect or not—and your ultimate goal, of course, he <i>can't</i> know—he still sounds surprised when you call him up the next afternoon and ask if he wants to get together to study for an upcoming history exam. He tries playing it cool, but you can tell he's jumpy when you arrive. You would be too, considering how tightly the clothes you're wearing cling to Cindy's body.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, this is really cool," you say as you sit down opposite him at the municipal library. You fix him with your highest-wattage smile and stare.<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it is," he gulps, and grins back. He looks a little sick.<br/>
<br/>
It only goes downhill for him from there. You hardly pay any attention to the books or the notes, but keep your eyes locked on his face. You brush his hand with yours. You pretend you've got your hair stuck in the zipper on the back of your blouse and ask him to disentangle it. He is thoroughly befuddled by the end of the evening, and you find he's trembling when, as you walk together back out into the parking lot, you slip your arm into his.<br/>
<br/>
"I had a really great time," you sigh, and rub your face on his sleeve. <br/>
<br/>
"You, uh, you want to get together next week, compare notes after the test?"<br/>
<br/>
You giggle. "I think we should get together before then. I'll call you." You steer him toward his car. "I'm waiting for a ride, so you should go ahead and go." He is so abashed that without offering to wait with you he gets in. You lean through his window to give him a lingering kiss. After you pull away, you lean in again and gently press a blank mask to his face.<br/>
<br/>
You leave him there after you retrieve it, still passed out, to wake wonderingly at the way your kiss made him faint dead away.<br/>
<br/>
Twenty minutes later Jason Lynch pulls into the lot in answer to your summons. You're much shorter with him, hopping into the passenger seat and thrusting a second mask at him. He wakes to find you punching and screaming at him, and you quickly flee weeping back into the library, to call Lucy for a ride home.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Cindy, sweetheart, I know you took Seth's dumping you hard," Chelsea simpers with a tooth-rotting solicitude. "But you're really not doing yourself any favors by slutting around."<br/>
<br/>
The other cheerleaders freeze. You turn and give her an even and direct stare. "Whatever are you talking about, sweetheart," you simper back.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just looking out for you," she says, crinkling her brow. "You're the squad captain now, and what you do reflects on all of us. There are a lot of really great guys out there without your having to, you know, act all Mother Theresa with the losers."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of painkillers are you on, Chelsea? You're not making any sense."<br/>
<br/>
She gets very arch. "You're not fooling anyone except the Johansson loser." She casts a meaningful glance at Lin, who reddens.<br/>
<br/>
"I forgot. You like to <i>encourage</i> bullies. It makes you feel less like one yourself."<br/>
<br/>
She hauls herself to her feet as haughtily as she can, considering the soft cast that encumbers her. "And who was bullying him at the library the other night. Hmmm?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just because you don't care about your grades, Chelsea, doesn't mean I don't."<br/>
<br/>
"And what were you studying, biology? Is that why you were undressing him with your eyes?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't see <i>you</i> there."<br/>
<br/>
"How could you? You were staring at him all night long." <br/>
<br/>
"Better luck dismounting from Gordon on your next date, Chelsea," you say in a vicious tone. "How you can get your ankles behind your ears for him with that cast on, I don't know." You push out of the locker room before she can summon up a retort.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You weren't expecting it, but you find a way to turn Chelsea's little outburst to your advantage. You sidle up to Lynch in the hallway later, rubbing against him and giving him weepy eyes. He gives you a slit-eyed glance back, but warms—in his creepy way—when you murmur an apology for the other night. He leans in and asks hungrily how sorry you are. "Pick me up tomorrow afternoon?" you say in a mousy voice, plucking his shirt. You overhear him later that day gloating to his friends.<br/>
<br/>
The next day is Saturday, and he at least has the grace to play it cool when he picks you up. He even takes your driving directions, which lead you out to the deserted elementary school near your—that is to say, William Prescott's—old house. You used to hang out there, in the basement, which has an outside door that you had fitted with a padlock of your own. The padlock isn't there now, because you removed it yesterday afternoon. <br/>
<br/>
Lynch is affectionate, stroking and pulling at you as you stroll around the playground. He holds back, though, when you lead him over to the basement door, and tries to dissuade you from opening it and looking in. But he's more receptive when you grab him and tear a passionate kiss away, and suggest the basement is the perfect place to "do it, quick, right now!"<br/>
<br/>
You pull out an old gym mat—which you'd found and arranged earlier—and tear the clothes off each other. True to rumor, Lynch has one of the smallest dicks you've ever seen, but you ignore that fact as you twist your panties aside and let him shove it up your pussy. Before he can cum, though, you clamber over to your purse and pull out a small, hard blue candy. "Here, have a mint," you say, and pop it into his mouth. He goes out like a blown candle. From your purse you draw the mask of Caleb, and drop it onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
He'll be out for hours, too, if you've got the dosage right, and you pull him out of sight. Then you get dressed and put a call in to Caleb. "I didn't know you knew about this place," he says when he arrives and finds you standing in the basement doorway. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm full of surprises," you dimple, and draw him in. "Take your clothes off." He blinks. "I'm serious."<br/>
<br/>
He's very slow and easily embarrassed as he draws off his shirt, and then at your direction his jeans, and then his socks and shoes; in fact he's so embarrassed that his boxers don't even tent at the way you twirl and giggle up at him. "Now, sit down here," you order him, indicating the gym mat. "I've got a surprise for you."<br/>
<br/>
He complies, and you move swiftly around him to press the mask of Jason Lynch over his features. He slumps.<br/>
<br/>
Neither mask carries a mind strip; each of your victims will awake to find himself transformed into the other, with no clue as to how to carry off the impersonation. Jason, of course, needs to stay clueless in Caleb's body. But you wonder if you should linger and give Caleb some directions after he wakes.</span></div></div>


path: 11222112121121
author_id: seuzz
title: The New Jason
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb—the new Jason Lynch—wakes soon after with a sigh. "What happened?" he groans. He coughs and clears his throat.<br/>
<br/>
"I think the excitement was too much for you," you smile. He is completely naked, but you're still dressed, and you stroll back and forth in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
He winces and struggles to his feet, not noticing the changes to his body. He blinks, though, when he looks at you. "Did you put on heels? You look taller." He clears his throat again.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you're shorter." Caleb Johansson is a little over six-one; Jason Lynch is several inches under six foot.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, if we're not doing anything, maybe I should get dressed. God," he coughs violently. "There's a lot of dust in here. It's making my voice sound funny. What?" He looks very puzzled—a bizarre expression on Jason's face—as you bend over in a gale of laughter.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh nothing," you gasp, recovering. "Just come over here and give me a hug before you get dressed."<br/>
<br/>
He swallows, and stumbles over. You're standing in front of a full-length mirror, and only a few seconds after putting his arms around you, he jumps back with a cry.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong," you ask. He stares over your head at the apparition in the mirror. "Oh, come on," you say, grasping his hand and drawing him back to you. "He won't bite. How could he? He's you, and you're him."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb steps uncertainly forward, still staring into the mirror. You sidle around him, and put your arms around him, to stroke his big chest and taut stomach. You look around his shoulder, to see him staring in disbelief as your arms, which are wrapped around him, seem to be cradling and stroking Jason Lynch.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't you like your new look, baby?" you coo. "I do. But I like you more. That's why I gave it to you."<br/>
<br/>
He looks around, down at you. His nostrils flare. "You ... you did this?"<br/>
<br/>
You nod. "Didn't you know I was a witch?"<br/>
<br/>
He strokes his own face, and trembles all over. "You have to change me back," he says bluntly. "I can't ... I can't go out like this."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course you can."<br/>
<br/>
"I can't pretend to be him. And what will he do when he sees me?"<br/>
<br/>
"He'll freak. But it won't do him any good. Anyway, I don't really want you acting like him. That's why I made the change. Because you're a lot nicer than him."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know anything about him!"<br/>
<br/>
"You have his driver's license, so you know where he lives, right?" you explain patiently. "As for the rest, just be yourself, and people will get used to the new Jason Lynch."<br/>
<br/>
"But what about my life? I can't just disappear!"<br/>
<br/>
"Your friend Will disappeared, didn't he?" His eyes go wide. You giggle. "But don't worry. I've made better arrangements for you. Look behind that desk." You nod your chin.<br/>
<br/>
He slowly goes over and looks behind the indicated desk. He gasps. "It's me!"<br/>
<br/>
"No, you dope. It's Jason Lynch. I changed him so that you wouldn't 'disappear' like your friend." You clap your hands with delight. "Imagine what he'll think when he wakes up and finds he's been turned into you!"<br/>
<br/>
"He'll kill me! He'll fuck up my life!"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not <i>your</i> life anymore, so what do you care? And he won't fuck it up if he knows what's good for him. As for killing you, pfft. I can take care of that."<br/>
<br/>
"How?"<br/>
<br/>
You tsk at him. "You're very pretty, Jason—better get used to your new name—but you're kind of dumb if you're asking the witch who bodyswapped you a question like that."<br/>
<br/>
"So, what do we do now?"<br/>
<br/>
You pick Jason's clothes up from where you'd shoved them and toss them over. "I think we should get out of here before your replacement comes to. Though I'd love to see his reaction, it would probably be best not let him see us together. Do your best not to let on that you're not the original Jason Lynch. If he challenges you, just push him around." You put your hand on your hip and give him a withering look. "I don't want you being a bully, exactly, but do you think you could manage to keep him in line?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb—but let's call him Jason, now—gets a lop-sided grin and nods bashfully. He is much better-looking, you think, now that the psychotic gleam has vanished from his eye.</span></div></div>


path: 11222112122
author_id: seuzz
title: The French Disease
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Freeman is sitting at an outside table at the coffee shop when you arrive. He puts out his cigarette and stands with an outstretched  hand as you approach. "I see French literature is not the only French habit you've picked up," you josh, indicating the cigarette. You ignore the cigarette and sit down heavily opposite him. "Now, Professor Freeman, the Grail."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes," he says. "I'll be teaching a course on medieval French literature next term, and I'd like to give them some of the archaeological background on it."<br/>
<br/>
"To disabuse them of 'Indiana Jones' type thinking, I hope!" He laughs. "I suppose at the least you'll tell them there's no indication that it was a cup, let alone the cup our Savior used at the Last Supper."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you think it was?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think there was no such thing," you retort. <br/>
<br/>
"But based on its descriptions, which are ... ambiguous."<br/>
<br/>
"I deal in facts, professor, not mythology. That's your department." He smiles again. "Well, Hancock thinks it was the Ark of the Covenant itself, but Hancock is an entertainer, not a scholar. Atlantis and Martians, indeed!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not familiar with this Hancock fellow," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, there's not much to say, and I'm blessed if I can follow his reasoning." You smile back at him. He's a handsome man: mid-thirties; straight, raven-dark hair; cut stylishly to curl behind his ear and over his collar; a sharp nose and chin, firm jawline; his dark eyes flash intelligently over even, white teeth. <br/>
<br/>
"Is he an archaeologist," Freeman asks.<br/>
<br/>
You laugh. "He's a <i>journalist</i>, some fellow who used to write for ... oh, I don't remember who. Went all cracked and decided to play Indiana Jones."<br/>
<br/>
"And he thinks the Martians were behind it all?" He laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that. The Man in the Iron Mask might be mixed up in it too. You have any thoughts about <i>him</i>?"<br/>
<br/>
Freeman regales you with some of the more outré speculations about Dumas' original—really? a Moroccan dwarf?—and then asks you again about Hancock.<br/>
<br/>
This isn't a profitable conversation. The man seems nice enough, and either he is the real thing or as a golem his task is to distract you. Still, you decide to play along and speak dismissively of Hancock's tedious and laughable theory about Martian astronauts, the sages of Atlantis, the Egyptian priesthood, the renegade antics of Moses, and the peregrinations of the Ark from Jerusalem to Egypt to Ethiopia to Rheims. As you talk, he takes out another cigarette and lights it expertly. His eyes gleam with amusement and professional camaraderie.<br/>
<br/>
You've not gone long before you realize that something is wrong. There is something fascinating about the way the smoke curls from the fag end between his fingers. Almost too late you catch the telltale twitching of his fingers ...<br/>
<br/>
"Phil! Old boy!" you call over Freeman's shoulders; it feels like claws scratching at your eyeballs as you tear your gaze away. You stand up uncertainly and totter past Freeman to wave at the disappearing back of you know not whom. "I'm so sorry," you say, turning back to him. "I've just spotted a fellow who's been avoiding me for the past week. But if we could—" You fumble at your watch. "If you care to join me at my house tonight, I have a number of sources I could show you that you might find illuminating. Cast a light into the thinking of the Grail author's contemporaries." You frown. "I won't be home until five," you mutter. "Shall we say six?"<br/>
<br/>
He is agreeable, and again you ignore his hand as you hurry away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You give him an hour and then drive back home. You smile to see a strange car out front. You weren't sure if he would take the bait. <br/>
<br/>
You slowly approach the car and peer in, but there are no bags or satchels in either the front seat or the back. Possibly he intended a surprise of his own for you, so you slowly approach the gate and go up the front walk. The front door is closed, so you circle around the French doors leading into the living room. They open at your touch and you step in. <br/>
<br/>
You listen, and there is the sound of running footsteps; something invisible, you sense, stares at you from the doorway. You smile in relief, and step forward, boldly dismissing it with a wave. It retreats grudgingly. <br/>
<br/>
A noxious smell greets you as you step into the foyer. Freeman is standing in the doorway to the library, his back to you. He seems rooted to the spot, and on tiptoes you sneak up behind him. "Boo!" you shout, and he shrieks like a hysterical woman. <br/>
<br/>
With a burst of laughter you step past him, being careful not to touch onto the rug that has him trapped; it is not just the "bear trap" sigil you mean to avoid, but the stain of ordure and piss that puddles by his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh my dear fellow," you chortle as you turn to confront him. His face is a chalky-green; his eyes are bloodshot, and he trembles all over. "What a time you must have had of it, stuck there with only the gwarcheidwad for company. He doesn't play nice, does he? You must have excited all his ingenuity when you refused to run. Bless my soul!" You shake your head.<br/>
<br/>
His lips peel back and his teeth almost look like fangs themselves, but he can only gibber incoherently. You sit insolently on the edge of a desk and regard him with contempt. "Do speak up, professor. Get a grip."<br/>
<br/>
He shudders all over, and then with a bestial growl he speaks. "What do you want?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't decided yet, actually," you admit. "Beyond getting rid of you." You feel very sober, suddenly. "You've hurt a great many people. People I don't care about, particularly," you add with a shrug. "But you're too dangerous to let go on this way."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll go on, though," he says in an accusing tone. "It's so tempting, so delicious, isn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes it is," you admit. You regard each other thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we could ... work together?"<br/>
<br/>
"Like scorpions in a bottle?" You shake your head. "I don't believe that. I know you don't believe that, and you know I don't believe that. There's no use pretending we don't understand each other perfectly."<br/>
<br/>
Again you regard each other. Then you reach into a drawer and draw out the knock out powder. "Goodbye, Professor Blackwell," you say as you shake some into your palm. "You've had a pleasant run. Shall we be trotting home again?" You blow the powder into his face. "But answer comes there none," you murmur as he sinks insensibly to the floor. "And this is scarcely odd, because it looks as though I've won."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You spoke truly when you said you hadn't decided what to do. First, though, of course, you drag him down into the basement and relieve him of his clothes and the mask of Jack Freeman. The latter you examine carefully; it appears to be a normal mask, but you lay it aside. You then recharge the Blackwell mask with the original's most recent memories and take everything upstairs so you can ponder your next steps.<br/>
<br/>
He's left a real mess for you to clean up. The real Jack Freeman is dead, his body lost somewhere in the countryside. There is, however, a local businessman, Samuel Orson, that he captured and turned into a modified golem. It's probably a bad idea leaving any of Blackwell's slaves running around, and you need to dispose of Blackwell himself. The safest thing to do is kill him, but there are ways of turning <i>him</i> into a slave. <br/>
<br/>
But the great question is whether to continue exploring the <i>Libras</i>. The book itself, you now know, is damaged, and most of its pages now inaccessible. Should you press on with Blackwell's research, hoping to find some way of restoring the enslaved businessman and destroying the last of Blackwell's work? Or should you just leave things as they are and find a new situation for yourself?</span></div></div>


path: 112221122
author_id: seuzz
title: You become Lucy.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I really don't like you going out there like a target," you tell her. "It's a guy thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Are you sure you're not just trying to get into my body?" she retorts. "That's also a guy thing."<br/>
<br/>
You give her a look. "You're not a virgin," you say. "Blackwell's already been crawling inside and out of you." She starts to say something ugly, but you wave her to be quiet. "Look, if you want to go back out there with a big fat bullseye on your back, explaining to your folks where you've been, go ahead. I'm telling you that you don't have to. But if you want to do that, be my guest."<br/>
<br/>
She plainly struggles, then grabs the blank mask from you. "I'm not afraid of going back," she says hotly. "But you've been really sweet so far, and I figure you need a reward." She sticks her tongue out at you and claps the mask to her face. You catch her as she slumps.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Tell my parents you spent the night at Jenny Randolph's," she tells you as you draw the jeans up over your slim, sexy hips. "I've done it before."<br/>
<br/>
"You've never slept over at Jenny Randolph's, whatever you've told them," you reply. You pick up the t-shirt. "One look at these clothes and they'll know you were with a guy all night." You pull it over your head, wishing she had been with you in <i>that</i> way. "Maybe you should start telling them the truth."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get any ideas about improving my life," she says. "I want it back the way I left it, so don't screw it up for me."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't worry. Just hand me the shoes." You sit on the ground and pull them on, though they are too large. "Look, I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, but you know I'm going to have to do my best to act like you and do what you do."<br/>
<br/>
"Meaning?" she asks slowly.<br/>
<br/>
You stand and pull your beautiful, platinum blonde hair back into a ponytail. Maybe it's because you were feeling awkward and embarrassed as you put her mask on, but you are fairly overwhelmed by her native personality, and you find you don't like dealing with a 'duplicate' anymore than she likes dealing with you. <br/>
<br/>
"Not to be a bitch about it," you say in a bitchy tone, "but unless you want your grades going south, I'm going to be spending a lot of time taking your clothes off and putting them back on." She flushes. "And I'm a healthy heterosexual guy, so don't think I'm going to be getting off on it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Oh, God, it's like a <i>salami</i>." You draw your tongue up his shaft. "Mmm. Salty, too."<br/>
<br/>
He kneads the back of your neck. "Why don't you turn around, let me sample <i>your</i> wares?"<br/>
<br/>
You giggle, and the bed groans as you shift to straddle to his face. His tongue tickles at first, and then ...<br/>
<br/>
When you're done you collapse into the crook of his bulging arm and rub his chest. "You know, I don't usually go home with a guy in the middle of the afternoon. And not with guys like you."<br/>
<br/>
"No? I guess I should take that as a compliment."<br/>
<br/>
"Mmmm. I guess. I normally go for the brainy guys." You reach over to snatch his glasses from the nightstand, and put them on. "I mean, you've got the eyewear." You scrunch up your nose. "Are you, like, one of those real 'student athlete' types?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I came here on an academic scholarship. All the other guys on the team are here on athletic tickets. Or they just tried out."<br/>
<br/>
You kiss him. "What are you good at?"<br/>
<br/>
"Besides basketball? Writing. Literature."<br/>
<br/>
"French literature?" You sit up excitedly.<br/>
<br/>
"No, English. Why?"<br/>
<br/>
You slump again. "I've got this French lit prof, a real hard ass."<br/>
<br/>
"LeMieux?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, Freeman. I can't get higher than a D from him."<br/>
<br/>
"So why did you take his class?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, he's totally dreamy to look at, you know." You giggle. "I can't understand a thing he says, but he says it in French and he's just so ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Dreamy, huh? Have you asked him for private tutoring?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you say slowly with a smile. "But I just get so flustered when I get close to his office."<br/>
<br/>
"You want tutoring from me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Are you good at math? Because the tutors I've got now—"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm rotten at math." He gives you a quizzical look. "Oh, I get it now."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing. Just, I've been watching you for a long time. Seen you around with the 'brainy' types and figured I didn't have a chance."<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" You slap him lightly. "You're such a goose."<br/>
<br/>
"I just figured those were your types. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore, and just sat down with you at lunch. Imagine my surprise when you put your foot in my lap."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I've been watching <i>you</i> for a long time too. I didn't want to be obvious about it."<br/>
<br/>
"You're a hard girl to read. Well, you <i>were</i>. Now, though ..." He pushes your legs apart and slides between them. "If you want my brain, you're going to have to screw it out of me."<br/>
<br/>
But it feels like <i>your</i> brains puddling on the pillows.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Have they fixed your SUV yet?" Seth asks as you jump into the back seat of his car.<br/>
<br/>
"Why, are you sick of picking me up?" you snap. Cindy, your sister, turns to give you a dirty look from the front seat.<br/>
<br/>
"No, I just can't believe it's taking them so long to fix a ... What's wrong with it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Everything. I don't want to talk about it." It's been four days since your "return," and your story about your missing SUV—the one Blackwell made off with—being in the car shop is beginning to sound a little fishy. <br/>
<br/>
Seth grunts. He's also a basketball player, but he's a high schooler, and he's Cindy's boyfriend besides. Also, he's a wormy and untrustworthy bastard. You can tell just by looking at him. "I bet if Seth had a look at it he could get it fixed real quick," Cindy says.<br/>
<br/>
"Seth has his hands under the hood of too many things belonging to the Vredenburg girls," you say haughtily. "By the way, if you're out of condoms already, Cindy, we'll need to stop at the store if I'm going to pick any up for you." She doesn't turn around, but you can feel the eyes in the back of her head drilling holes into you. The rest of ride home passes in frosty silence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Ah, Miss Vredenburg, do come in." Blackwell gestures to you from behind the desk in his office. "I'm so glad you could come on such short notice." You sit down stiffly, keeping your knees together. "Please shut the door. This is going to be a, ah, delicate conversation." You meekly comply ...<br/>
<br/>
... and when it is shut you relax into your chair, crossing your legs. You are in your cheerleader outfit, and the white hose clings tightly to your slim but powerful legs; you let the skirt fall provocatively away.<br/>
<br/>
He grimaces. "Settling in nicely, I see."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh throatily. "You're not doing too bad yourself. Got an erection, you fat, dirty old pervert?"<br/>
<br/>
He glowers but otherwise lets your gibe pass. "How are things at home?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "I wish he'd freaking make his move. All my sassiness aside, it's getting real old. I jump every time someone says 'boo.' What about you?"<br/>
<br/>
"All quiet." He glances out the window. "I'm not sure we shouldn't switch back. It's not much safer being Blackwell." He pauses. "Either the ... the asshole has decided to run very far away, or he's ... extremely confused about by his acquiring his own double."<br/>
<br/>
"Worried that you're a bigger target for him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't mind being a target. I told you that before."<br/>
<br/>
"I see. You just figure you might as well be yourself if you're going to be a target."<br/>
<br/>
"Precisely."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. He takes it as an affirmative.<br/>
<br/>
"Shall we switch now?"</span></div></div>


path: 1122211221
author_id: seuzz
title: A False Face
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The setting is a little exposed ... And you're worried about what she'll say about some of the new "friends" you've made over the past few days ...<br/>
<br/>
"You <i>slut</i>," she spits after she's pulled the mask of herself away from her face; she's now all caught up with "her" life of the past few days. <br/>
<br/>
"I don't think I was out of character," you say defensively as you finish pulling on Blackwell's clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"Not out of character for the way <i>you</i> think of me. Why didn't you just sleep with the whole basketball team?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some of them have girlfriends." Like that would matter. "Anyway, it's not like you have to see any of them again."<br/>
<br/>
"Only every time there's a game," she retorts. "I ought to copy you a nice whore and put you on the street turning tricks. It's what you'd enjoy."<br/>
<br/>
"No I wouldn't," you reply hotly. "I was just following your own emotions. It's what you wanted to do. You've been lusting after Kevin and Vince and Zander and—"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to list them all!" She claps her hands to her ears.<br/>
<br/>
"— and Jordan since the start of the term. If you'd just listen to your feelings—"<br/>
<br/>
"If you'd just exercised some control, like I do—"<br/>
<br/>
"So I'd be fucking only three different guys a week instead of seven or nine? Yeah, you're a real candidate for Mother Superior."<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you, then bursts out laughing. "I'm still royally pissed off at you, but if you could see yourself in a mirror, talking that way while looking like Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
"All right, we'll talk about it later. I've got that faculty meeting, don't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh. And I've got that conference with Professor Freeman. Maybe I should listen to my 'feelings' and take <i>him</i> under his desk while I'm there."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You feel bloated and irritable after swapping Lucy's small, lithe body for Blackwell's grotesque girth, and you make yourself highly disagreeable at the faculty meeting, so no one says anything when you leave early. Your temper isn't improved as you pick through "your" recent memories and see just how little work Lucy did as Blackwell: She read through some of his books and tried her hand at some of the tricks, but she didn't make a close study of them, and she was easily bored and distracted, even with his temperament and vast knowledge to guide her. Well, you suppose you don't blame her. It's a lot more fun being Lucy Vredenburg than Aubrey Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
You find it all quite interesting, however, and you leave the university early so you can explore his library. You have to clean it up, first, putting all the scattered books back on their shelves. But then you are soon deeply absorbed in a study of basic sigils and having quite a bit of fun trying out some elementary combinations when the doorbell rings at around eight o'clock. It's Lucy.<br/>
<br/>
"I got a friend to drop me off," she explains. "I thought we might want to strategize after switching."<br/>
<br/>
"Not a bad idea." You lead her into the library. "You could use a little more protection. <i>I</i> could have used a little more protection, but we're closer to seeing Blackwell reappear."<br/>
<br/>
"Protection. I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. What would you find useful?"<br/>
<br/>
You and she toss around various ideas, and you ponder various ways of realizing them. You are soon vibrating nicely as you strain the "motors" of Blackwell's mind. He is very smart, but you have the impression he hasn't much of an imagination. At least, you are soon exclaiming over ideas and intuitions for improving on some of his tricks. Lucy seems impressed. "You're really getting into this, aren't you?" she says. "I almost feel like taking notes."<br/>
<br/>
"I always liked taking things apart to see how they work," you smile. She stands up, excusing herself as wanting some water from the kitchen. "Just me pull down the <i>Tractatus Logico-Magica</i> for me as you go," you ask.<br/>
<br/>
It's a silly thing to ask, of course. It had been sitting on the desk but you'd put it away. Nevertheless, Lucy, after glancing around her, marches directly over and pulls it from its place on the shelf. "What's your idea?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Not sure yet," you say, trying to hide the tremble in your hand as you fumble open the book. "But if we could make one of his little spy spells mobile, we could have a kind of 'eye in the sky' to ferret him out." She gives a little exclamation of delight, then goes off to the kitchen.<br/>
<br/>
You keep your head down but watch her go, her hips swaying invitingly. There had been nothing until that moment to suggest anything was out of the ordinary, but now your heart is beating wildly.<br/>
<br/>
After a few moments during which she doesn't reappear, you call to her. "Did you fall in, dearest?"<br/>
<br/>
"No," comes the muffled reply. "No, I just ... cut myself ... or something."<br/>
<br/>
"There's a first aid kit over the sink."<br/>
<br/>
"Where? Oh. Can you come get it down for me? I can't reach it."<br/>
<br/>
Your mind races, trying to pierce what she might be up to. Cautiously you go out into the foyer and look into the kitchen. It's dark, and you can barely see her, standing over the sink, her head down.<br/>
<br/>
You hesitate a few more moments, then go out the front door and around to the kitchen door. She's standing on the other side, looking out into the foyer, when you come in. "What are you doing?" she asks. "Why did you come in--?"<br/>
<br/>
You don't reply, you just advance on her, being sure to block any way out of the kitchen except through the doorway into the foyer. Too late she realizes what you intend; you grab her and push her through.<br/>
<br/>
She stumbles, and in the light of foyer you see the wispy filaments cling to her form; their fragments also billow lightly in the doorway. She sags, and falls to the ground, unconscious.<br/>
<br/>
You step carefully through the doorway, avoiding the touch of the Sleeping Web, and lift and carry her down into the basement. Only after divesting her of her clothes do you tear the mask away, revealing Aubrey Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Shit, you scared me when you came in," she says after you've got the handcuffs off. She rubs her wrists and ankles. "Why are you still dressed up like him?"<br/>
<br/>
"It just seemed fastest and easiest," you mutter. "But now that you mention it, maybe it's time to take all the masks off." You rip Blackwell away from your own face and sit down on the bed next to her. "How did he get you? I mean, even I wouldn't go home with a professor at four in afternoon, no matter how hunky he was. Or, you know ..."<br/>
<br/>
She gives you a dirty look. "I wouldn't either. But he said something, and then I had to do what he said as long as he was talking. He talked me down into his car, and then I woke up just in time to see, well, <i>myself</i> walking out the door."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, okay. That was a ... what's it called?" Blackwell's memories are slipping rapidly away from you. "Anyway, it's a special word that he can use to put people in his power temporarily. Then he must have used a sleeping powder."<br/>
<br/>
"And where'd he get the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"Obviously it's the first mask he made of you. He put your most recent memories into it and then came to get me." You tell her what happened at the house.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do we do now?" she asks. "Where's the real Professor Freeman?"<br/>
<br/>
"Dead. I copied <i>Blackwell's</i> most recent memories into his mask."<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes fall. "That's too bad," she says. "I mean, aside from him being dead ..." She bites her lip and looks around Freeman's bedroom. "So, um, how are we going to explain his death? Just let him disappear?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's a spell in the book that will let us turn Blackwell himself into a golem. I figure it's a fitting punishment for him. Then we can just put the Freeman mask on him. As far as everyone else is concerned he'll be back to normal. Except he'll have to do what we say."<br/>
<br/>
She perks up. "You mean I could order him to give me an A?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, and without sleeping with him either," you retort sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
She looks a little abashed, and picks up the discarded mask of Jack Freeman. "Too bad. He really was a dreamboat." She looks everyplace but your face. "You know, now that it's over, I could really use some stress relief." She stretches out provocatively on the bed. <br/>
<br/>
Your cock springs to attention. "Are you asking if we could--?"<br/>
<br/>
She nods. "Um, no offense, but ..." She holds up the mask of Freeman. "Do you think you could wear this while we did it?"</span></div></div>


path: 1122211222
author_id: seuzz
title: The Hero in Distress
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"I know what you want," you retort. "You just want to have Professor Freeman all to yourself this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
He blinks. "What are you seeing him about?"<br/>
<br/>
"What does it matter? He's just so <i>sexy!</i>" You laugh. "I don't know. He called last night, asked me to come in for a conference about my grades."<br/>
<br/>
He pulls at his lip. "Seems odd."<br/>
<br/>
"Why? He'd be a bad prof if he didn't call me in. Not to be a bitch about it, but you've been more interested in him than the class."<br/>
<br/>
"I've noticed," he says peevishly, "that when you talk about my life you use 'I' and 'me' and 'my'. Except when you say something negative, and then it's 'you' and 'your'."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Professor Jack Freeman looks up warmly as you sway lazily into his office, and the warmth in his eye comes with a hot, appreciative gleam; you catch him glancing you up and down, from your impudent face down your thrusting bosom to the skirt you are lightly rocking from side to side. "Am I early," you purr.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been tense with expectation," he replies.<br/>
<br/>
He really is a heartthrob: Straight, raven-black hair, cut in a stylish rake that still curls a little behind his ears and over his collar. Dark, flashing eyes. A strong nose and chin and a firm jaw line. A hint of Iroquois in his cheekbones. Hunched behind his desk you can't see his broad shoulders or narrow waist, but Lucy has gazed at him often enough to know they are there. Only the fact that he's a few inches short of six feet detracts from the movie-star aura he projects.<br/>
<br/>
You sit down without invitation and unsling the purse from your shoulder. "What did you want to talk to me about?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm surprised you haven't been up to see me yet," he says, leaning back and fussing with a pen. "I don't want to be rude, but your performance could benefit from some ... close mentoring."<br/>
<br/>
"How close?" He shrugs lightly. "Should I close the door?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not that close," he says with a smile. "Not yet." He says a word that you don't understand but which catches your attention in an odd way. You want to ask him to repeat it, but you keep being distracted by the sense that if you just concentrated a little more you could remember or figure out what it was. You are soon so preoccupied by this puzzle that you hardly notice as he gestures you to rise and leads you out the door.<br/>
<br/>
He continues to talk, in a low murmur near your ear, but his words mean nothing. You smile, and you nod and you giggle; you wave to some of your friends; and you get into the passenger's seat of his car. All the time you are completely absorbed in trying to remember that word he spoke.<br/>
<br/>
Only when you are buckled in does your attention relax, and you shake yourself back into the present. By then it is too late: you turn just in time to see Freeman, with a smile, blow a soft blue dust into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake to find yourself stretched on a bed, your hands and feet handcuffed to the bedposts. A figure turns at your groan. It's Lucy. She's just pulled on her skirt, and is still naked from the waist up.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, so you're awake," she says lightly. "Nice to have you back. You like the view?" She swings her breasts so that they jiggle.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and look down, recognizing your own shallow chest and stomach and cock. "It won't do you any good, Professor. She's wearing your body, so she's just as smart and quick and evil."<br/>
<br/>
"But she'll be expecting <i>you,</i>" she replies, "which means it'll be more than a match." She giggles as she pulls the bra on. "Still, it'll be funny for a little while, won't it? She's pretending to me, and I'm pretending to be her. Well, I guess actually I'll be pretending to be you pretending to be her." She shakes her head. "I can't believe I was almost thwarted by a bubble-headed cheerleader and a ... a high school loser."<br/>
<br/>
"We came close, though."<br/>
<br/>
"Not really. Not as long as I had the <i>Libras.</i>" She pulls on her sweater. "I don't even know why you tried. She wasn't going to give you any, no matter how valiant you were."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know what you mean."<br/>
<br/>
"Don't pretend to be naïve, Mr. Prescott. Would you have tried so hard to save her if you didn't think there'd be a victory fuck for you at the end?" She giggles. "Well, there may be one for you yet. <i>I'll</i> feel like celebrating when I'm done. And there are ways of making you ... compliant." She blows you a kiss and swishes out the door.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You struggle for bit when she's gone, mostly for show, because the handcuffs are not going to break. You briefly wonder why Professor Freeman—for sure it is his bedroom—has four pairs of handcuffs on hand, and then you try very hard to put the answer out of your mind.<br/>
<br/>
And then there is nothing to do but stare at the ceiling and let Blackwell's parting words prey on you. Was all this solely so you could impress a girl you never would have stood a chance with? Lucy Vredenburg never noticed you when you were both in high school, and she barely deigns to notice you now. You know from your time inside her head what she would feel—in fact, what she was feeling up to the moment you put on the mask of her. She isn't even very grateful to you, just grateful that you were around to help her. If you were an athlete or a rich guy or ... fuck, even if you were Geoff freaking Mansfield, the guy who took your ex-girlfriend away from you, it might be a different story. But you're just a guy, just some guy who happened to be there.<br/>
<br/>
But are you any different? Isn't he right that you were hoping she'd sigh "My hero!" and fall into your arms? But you'd have saved her even if she looked like Prue Edwards, with the fat and the unibrow and the moustache. And if Prue Edwards had fallen into your arms and sighed "My hero"? Well, you'd have been a gentleman and declined, just as you'd have been a gentleman and slipped Lucy seven inches ... well, okay, <i>five</i> ... if <i>she</i> had fallen into your arms. <br/>
<br/>
The point is that you'd have saved her no matter her looks, just as you'd have saved ... as you'd have saved Aubrey Blackwell if <i>he</i> were the innocent trapped by a beautiful witch who looked like Lucy Vredenburg. Wouldn't you? Unless the witch who looked like Lucy Vredenburg had fallen in love with you and offered you her love and her body in return for ...<br/>
<br/>
No, stop it. He's gotten in your head. That's what warlocks do, right? It's not your fault that you're having these thoughts. You're a good person!<br/>
<br/>
But these debates keep circling in your head until you're sick of them and you just want the waiting to end. And then you hear the front door open and you wish you had a lot more time left to obsess over them ...<br/>
<br/>
You swallow hard as the bedroom door opens and Aubrey Blackwell, now back to his regular form, comes in. "Jesus, Will," he says as he takes a key from his pocket and starts fumbling at the handcuffs. "I can't leave you alone with a pretty face for five minutes ..."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I'm sick of people pretending to be other people," you snap as you rub your wrists. "Can you take off the freaking mask and show me it's not another trick?"<br/>
<br/>
He gets a wry expression, and puts his hand to his brow and pulls. A moment later Lucy stands there with Blackwell's clothes falling off her.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a lot better, in a lot of ways," you say, trying not to look down at her naked legs. "But how did you know it wasn't me who showed up at the house?"<br/>
<br/>
"He kept flirting with me, even after I told him to back off. You are very good at taking the hint." You grimace. "And then it was pretty tough, until I got him in a headlock because he ... I mean, because my body was so much smaller than his ... I mean, the one I was wearing. Then I got the mask off, and that made it worse for him." She shudders. "Aubrey Blackwell in my cheerleading outfit. It would have been hilarious if it hadn't looked so horrible. He could hardly breath. And my panties on his nut sack." She shakes her head.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"Knocked him out, finally, and put him in the basement. Then, well ..." She trails off. "Well, I was so pissed and so frightened I sprayed his spider web stuff over him. He was in bad shape and unconscious, so I don't think he felt it when he stopped breathing."<br/>
<br/>
"So he's dead?" She nods. "And we don't know who besides Professor Freeman he got rid of?"<br/>
<br/>
She draws a sharp breath. "I hadn't thought about that. Is that going to be a problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit." You're both silent for a bit. "Well, it's too late now. What do we do?"<br/>
<br/>
You reach over to the nightstand and pick up the mask of Jack Freeman. It appears to be a normal mask, but you are reluctant to try it on. "I guess we try to clean up as much of his mess as we can?"<br/>
<br/>
"Or we burn down his house and everything inside and pretend we had nothing to do with any of it."<br/>
<br/>
"That's another possibility. You know, Lucy," you add. "I rescued you because you needed rescuing. I'd have done the same for anyone. It wasn't because ..." You trail off. It seemed like something that needed to be said, but now that you've tried to say it, it sounds awkward and maudlin and stupid. "You don't know what I'm talking about. Never mind."<br/>
<br/>
"I get the gist," she says. She gives you a peck on the cheek. "Is that enough?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess it'll have to be," you say wryly. </span></div></div>


path: 11223
author_id: seuzz
title: The End of a Very Short Adventure
chapter_content:
<div><span style="font-size:1.47em;"><div> <span>Maybe you should just feel lucky you made a ninety-eight dollar profit off the misfortunes of Arnholm and Blackwell. You throw the card away and forget all about the book.<br/>
<br/>
Your subsequent life is very dull but at least it is happy.</span></div></span></div>


path: 1123
author_id: rugal
title: Third Thoughts
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You decide to listen to those bells in your head. Maybe he's not actually a bad guy but he gives off massive creepy vibes and you feel that it's better to play it safe and not get involved with him. "Sorry sir," you reply shaking your head, "I think I'm gonna actually keep the book."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gives you a scowl although you're not sure if there is anger in it. "Are you sure boy?" he asks, "Is there no way to persuade you to sell me the book? It is a very valued part of my... collection, a collection I have spent a great many years building, and to lose it would greatly distress me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry." you answer, "but two dollars or two hundred dollars I paid for this book and thinking about it I'd rather just keep it."<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm, very well." Blackwell concedes, "However, should you ever feel the need to give up the book come see me. I can usually be found in this store as well as the more... eccentric antique shops around town."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's Saturday night, and you're staring at what's now a hard, dull white mask thinking about what a problem this book has already been. To even get to the first spell required cutting yourself with a knife and leaving a bloody thumb print. The list of materials required to even make the mask itself was... quite strange to say the least. You're lucky though in that most of the materials you needed were actually found around the house, sometimes after exhaustive searching, and anything you didn't had was really only a short drive away to various stores and could be found for cheaper than you expected.<br/>
<br/>
The last step now was polishing it and as you looked at the mask, you briefly wonder if it was worth it. You decide, however, that you've come this far and that there's little point in backing out now. So you find a good, clean rag and begin polishing. <br/>
<br/>
By the time you head to bed, about four hours later, you can only see a few spots where the white has become a brilliant blue.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Polishing while watching television, polishing while browsing the internet ... It takes all night and all day Sunday, and aside from a few brief moments such as dinner or showering, you spend most of the weekend working on the mask, although you're a bit disappointed that <br/>
<br/>
Monday morning, you actually manage to convince your mom to let you stay home by cooking up a story about a large essay that is due soon that you absolutely need to work on and give 100% of your attention. The truth is, you wanted to say home because of the mask. You want to go back to polishing it, to finishing it up and unlocking whatever secrets it may hold. You're a bright kid, after all, missing some school work isn't a problem and you can make it up quite quickly. The mask though ... the mask is something you'd rather have done and out of the way.<br/>
<br/>
So you polish. And you polish. All day, no matter what you're doing, aside from certain things, you're polishing that damn mask. You're making headway but it's a process that's slow, almost excruciatingly so. The effort, you hope, will be worth it, but the time evening comes you've seen enough of the mask so you decide to put it up for the night and spend most of the rest of the day hanging out with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
Your sleep, however, proves to be a restless one. The mask and the desire to finish it is infesting your every thought and you can't stand it. Is this the mask's doing? Is it the magic power that rests in the book and it's spells? Or is it simply your own nerves and impatience? Or is it both? You're not sure but you eventually decide to just wake up early and get more work done on it before school.<br/>
<br/>
Your efforts are finally rewarded around five o'clock, when all of the dull white coloring is gone and replaced with the blue; a blue that seems to be sparkling although that could be your eyes as you feel like you could cry in joy, like you've just won the ultimate marathon. After setting the mask back down on your bed you open the book back up and realize that you can finally turn the page to the next spell. On the back of the previous page, though, you find a continuation of the first spell. Carefully you read and reread it. It claims to be able to copy someone's very image though how it doesn't delve into. While reading, however, you're interrupted by a knock on the door and a voice calling out your name.<br/>
<br/>
"Will?"<br/>
<br/>
The voice sends you into an excitement that nearly matches the completion of the polishing as it's the sweet voice that belongs to your cousin Umeko, a girl that you have harbored a deep crush on for a long, long time. To your credit, there's no blood relation: she was an orphan whom your aunt and uncle adopted after having no luck conceiving a child on their own. She was a beautiful Japanese-American girl who was as equally kind and caring and her looks and nature caused many a guy to become infatuated, guys that she mostly kept at a distance. The few times she DID date someone, you were jealous in spite of yourself, but thankfully those relationships were always fairly short.<br/>
<br/>
Quickly tossing the book onto your book shelf, you open the door and are greeted by Umeko's warm smile and beautiful visage as she looks fantastic in her purple halter top and black pants, her shoulder length black hair tied back in a ponytail.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, uh, hey Umeko!" you say, your voice cracking a little in nervousness before you correct it, "Uh, hey. So what brings you over here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, you know..." she starts as she enters your room and closes the door, "I was on my way up to the mall to grab a new dress for my whole performance at the church tomorrow, and since it's on the way mom wanted me to stop by here and see what Aunt Martha wanted us to bring over for lunch next Sunday."<br/>
<br/>
You nearly do a double take at that, "Dinner?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko nods. "Yeah, in honor of my performance. They thought it'd be a good idea to spend the day together as a family thing. Your parents didn't tell you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nuh uh." you say shaking your head, "Nobody told me anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well yeah. That's what's going on." she said. It was at that moment she noticed the mask on your bed. "Oh, hey... what's that?" she asked as she picked it up. "Huh, it's like some kind of mask. Did you make it? It's really pretty."<br/>
<br/>
"Well... no, not really. I saw it in the mall and thought it looked pretty neat. It was surprisingly cheap."<br/>
<br/>
Umeko, however, is looking at it with interest and you watch as she brings it up to her face and stands there... then her arms drop to her side and she falls onto the bed. In a panic you rush over to her and turn her over onto her back when, to your shock, the mask is absorbed into her face. You shake her, call her name, try to wake her up. She's breathing and her eyes are open but there's no response. You're panicking when after a few minutes the mask rises back up and you pull it off. She's woozy and you explain that she fainted and it's at that point that she decides she should be going.<br/>
<br/>
You look at the mask and are surprised that it now has Umeko's visage... so THAT'S how it "absorbs an image." You run back to the spell book and decide to look at the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's late, and everyone else has gone to bed. You're standing in your bedroom, thankful that the rest of your family is out for now. You used the material the book said to seal the mask and Umeko's image into it. With light trepidation you take the mask and place it on your face, falling back onto your bed as you black out. A few minutes later you wake up and can immediately tell you're different. Your shirt feels bigger, your pajama pants do as well though your slightly wider hips help. And you can feel a weight on your chest and longer hair in your face. You head to the nearest bathroom and take a look in the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
It's Umeko. Or rather, it's Umeko wearing your clothes. You can't believe it! You touch your face, Umeko touches hers; you feel your hips and ass and so does Umeko. You remove your shirt and so does Umeko. You almost faint at the sight as there stands Umeko, dressed in your pajama pants and topless with her breasts exposed. It was a sight you'd long dreamed of.<br/>
<br/>
"Ha ha!" you laugh, more in disbelief than anything else, "This is... this is un-freakin-believable." Umeko's voice echoes through the bathroom as she feels her stomach and then her chest.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know what to do, a million thoughts in your mind. Should you tell Umeko tomorrow? Should you not tell her? You have to tell somebody but you can't tell her about... HER. What about Caleb? He's your best friend after all. Yeah, he could work. So many thoughts, so many possibilities and as you walk your way back to your bedroom and lock the door you don't quite care at the moment.<br/>
<br/>
You're Umeko right now. You look like her, sound like her. Her perfect looks are yours. Her body is your body. And for now it's time for Umeko herself to do things that she only did in your wildest fantasies.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231
author_id: imaj
title: Tell Umeko everything
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sitting in the church, fidgeting anxiously in your Sunday best, your find it increasingly hard to concentrate on Umeko's performance.  Uemeko really does have a beautiful singing voice, but the thing is, the thing is'<br/>
<br/>
If the book is right, you could sing like that too.<br/>
<br/>
Wearing Umeko's face really was fun.  You certainly enjoyed yourself exploring your cousin's body yesterday, but after a couple of hours of pleasuring yourself you had to set the mask aside.  After all, it would have been hard to explain to your parents why their niece was naked in their son's bedroom.<br/>
<br/>
Naturally your attention had returned back to the book itself and the newly revealed spell.  Your Latin is pretty shody, but a few hours careful work on the Internet and you had a translation:  The Mind.<br/>
<br/>
So much as wearing Umeko's face was great, the idea of knowing her memories and feelings seems so much better.  It might be possible to trick her, to fool her into placing the band on her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
You snap out of your reverie and find yourself standing and applauding.  Umeko's performance has just finished and she has earned a standing ovation.  Smiling broadly, she gazes in the direction of you and the rest of your family.<br/>
<br/>
You'll tell her everything this afternoon, you decide.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You look over the spell translation one last time.  You've been sitting here for about half an hour, working out in your head what you'll say to Umeko.  Tricky, very tricky.  You suspect just saying 'Hi, I changed into you and had a marathon masturbation session yesterday' doesn't quite convey the image you want.<br/>
<br/>
There's a knock at the door and you hear a soft voice on the other side enquire 'Will?'<br/>
<br/>
Fuck.<br/>
<br/>
'um' er'. Hi,' your voice comes out high pitched and strangulated.<br/>
<br/>
'Uncle Harris and Aunt Martha were wondering where you had gotten to,' says Umeko as she peers round the door.<br/>
<br/>
She's still wearing the dress she wore for the performance.  It's demure and very flattering.<br/>
<br/>
'Hi Umeko,' you say, repeating yourself.  'Come on in.  I was just..  I was just thinking there was something I wanted to show you.'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko closes the door behind her and perches on the edge of your bed.  You hand her the mask.<br/>
<br/>
'Oh,' she begins.  'It's that mask you showed me yesterday.  I don't know what game over me then.  I just kinda blacked out.'<br/>
<br/>
'Look at it,' you say.  'Look at it closely.'<br/>
<br/>
'Ah, it's reflecting me, but'' she stops for a second 'The angle is kinda weird.  That can't be right, I mean it's distorted and showing the wrong side of my face.'<br/>
<br/>
'Um' yes'' you stutter, somewhat alarmed at your cousin's observation.  You take the mask back off her.  'It started after you put it on and fainted.  And when I say it started, I mean it sort of shows your reflection even when I'm looking at it.'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko looks at you one perfect eyebrow raised.<br/>
<br/>
'Oh Fuck,' you say under your breadth.  'I-didn't-get-it-at-the-mall-I-made-it'<br/>
<br/>
The words tumble out in a rush.  Umeko stares at you, puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
'I found this book,' you begin, taking a deep breath and speaking more slowly.  'It told me how to make the mask.  I think its some kind of magic.'<br/>
<br/>
'Is this a joke,' says Umeko sceptically.  'Because it's not funny at all.'<br/>
<br/>
'Please, just let me show you,' you say.<br/>
<br/>
Trembling, you lift the mask to your face.  The room swims for a second and the next thing you realise Umeko is helping you to your feet again.<br/>
<br/>
'Your' You'' she begins.  It's so strange to see her at a loss for words.<br/>
<br/>
'I know,' you reply in your Umeko-voice, the tone not quite a match for her own.<br/>
<br/>
You stare sheepishly at your Umeko-feet.<br/>
<br/>
'The mask stores the image of whoever puts it on. I never meant for you to put it on' You half lie.  'Once you did'  It takes so long to make a new mask'  There was another spell in the book to turn it into a disguise and well' Here I am' Er' Here you are''<br/>
<br/>
Umeko stares at you, her mouth open.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112311
author_id: imaj
title: Umeko wants to know more about the book
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Umeko cocks her head slightly and stares at you.  Stares through you.<br/>
<br/>
'That's'. just a little bit creepy Will.' She says evenly.  'You didn't' do anything when you were like that, did you?'<br/>
<br/>
You feel your cheeks redden.<br/>
<br/>
'Oh.  My.  God.' She exclaims, stifling a laugh.  'You did, didn't you?'<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
You recount the whole story to Umeko, starting with first buying the book for a couple of dollars, right the way through 'signing' it with your own blood to making and polishing the first mask.  She shivers involuntarily at the part when you mention Blackwell, agreeing with you that he sounded more than a little odd.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko proves to be incredibly interested in the book.  Her Latin is, if anything, much worse than your own so she looks over your translations instead.  You've already removed the Umeko mask because she found it 'Distracting' and are spinning it idly in your hands when she finally looks up from her work.<br/>
<br/>
'This first one, the mask making,' Umeko begins, rubbing the first two fingers of her right hand against her temple in the way that she does when she's thinking.  'I think I see everything you need for that around here.  It doesn't take that long, does it?'<br/>
<br/>
'The spell, no.  Polishing it afterwards, days'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko frowns momentarily.<br/>
<br/>
'But we could make the mask tonight after dinner couldn't we?  And I can take it home with me and polish it up.'<br/>
<br/>
'Yes,' you say warily, not entirely sure that you're happy with that.  'You want to polish one up?  It's a lot of work, and you want to use it?'<br/>
<br/>
'Oh come on,'  Umeko smiles.  'You can't show me something like that and expect me not to want to try it out.  I think I can come up with a couple of uses for it.'<br/>
<br/>
'Such as?' you ask, eyes narrowing.<br/>
<br/>
'Much more fun to surprise you!  This second spell, the sealing.  I can do that at home if you let me borrow the translation.  The third spell will be difficult however'<br/>
<br/>
'Huh?' you reply.  'It's not much different from the others.'<br/>
<br/>
'Well, yeah, but this bit here,' she says, waving the paper at you and pointing to one of the materials.  'It's going to stink up your room for days if you try it here.  Not to mention Uncle Harris and Aunt Martha will notice.  You'd need somewhere else to go to cast it.'<br/>
<br/>
'The clubhouse,' you murmur under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
'The what?'<br/>
<br/>
'The clubhouse.  The old elementary school a couple of blocks from here.  There's an old basement storage room I found a way into.  Some of my friends use it too, but we haven't been there for months.  I put a new lock on the door too, so no one else can get in.'<br/>
<br/>
'That could work,' says Umeko, again rubbing here temple.  'We make a new mask tonight.  Then, on, oh, say Wednesday, I meet you at this clubhouse of yours with the finished mask.  And make sure you make two of those memory band things by then.  I want to see what the next spell is'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko smiles her broadest smile yet.  You can't help but feel that you might have made a mistake.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
You moved the book and materials to the abandoned elementary school basement later that evening.  Making the excuse that you had needed some fresh air, it was easy enough to pack everything away and head there.  The lock you had added was intact and the basement seemed exactly as you had left it months ago.  As a last precaution you hid everything behind a pile of old desks.<br/>
<br/>
With hindsight, this seems to have been a wise move.  It's Monday morning.  You've just stepped outside your home and spotted the unfamiliar looking car parked outside your house.<br/>
<br/>
The man standing beside it is anything but unfamiliar.  Aubrey Blackwell, still wearing cheap clothes, smiles an insincere smile as he spots you.<br/>
<br/>
'Good morning young Will,' he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to school.  'I was in the vicinity and I thought I'd stop by and see if you had perchance decided to rethink my offer.'<br/>
<br/>
Perchance?  Fagot, you think.<br/>
<br/>
'I have on my very person at this moment one thousand dollars which I will give you in exchange for your book.  That's quite the finder's fee for you, no?'<br/>
<br/>
You walk on in silence for a moment before stopping and turning to face the collector.<br/>
<br/>
'Listen Mr Blackwell''<br/>
<br/>
'Aubrey, I insist,' he intereupts.<br/>
<br/>
'Listen 'Aubrey',' you continue, your voice dripping sarcasm.  'I wouldn't sell you that book for ten million dollars.  I want you fuck off and stay the hell away from me.'<br/>
<br/>
A dark expression fleets across Aubrey's face, his hands tense into fists. For a moment you think he might attack you in a mindless rage.  Then, as quickly as it disappeared, the insincere smile is back in place.  Even turned up a gear from the look of it.<br/>
<br/>
You resume your slow pace towards school.  Aubrey remains where he stood, talking to your receding back.<br/>
<br/>
'Well think about it young Will.  One thousand dollars is a lot of money, and this is a one time offer.  I would hate for you to regret dismissing it out of hand.  One never knows what the coming days will bring.  Perhaps you or your family might need that cash.'<br/>
<br/>
He sketches a bow before returning towards his car.  Did he just threaten your family?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The  conversation leaves you distracted for most of the rest of the school day.  You catch a lot of flak in Geography for spending the entire period staring out the window doing nothing, simply turning Aubrey's words over and over in your mind.<br/>
<br/>
Finally the last bell comes round.</span></div></div>


path: 1123112
author_id: imaj
title: Worried about your family, you head home
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Concerned about what Blackwell said, your first instinct is to head for home.<br/>
<br/>
You were right to.  For the second time today you spot an unfamiliar car parked outside your house.  Well not exactly unfamiliar, you recognise a police car when you see one, you just wonder why it’s parked outside your house.<br/>
<br/>
You run in the open door and into the Hall to find it has been trashed.  Flowers from the vase your mother kept in the hall are strewn across the floor, along side the fragments of the vase itself.  The drawer from the hall table has been upended.  Jackets from the cupboard under the hall are everywhere.  As you move through the house it becomes clear the rest of the house has faired no better.<br/>
<br/>
“So let me go over this one more time,” you hear a steady, male voice say from the kitchen.  “You went out to pick up groceries at 2:00pm, when you returned at 3:30pm you found the door ajar and the house in this state.”<br/>
<br/>
The voice continues in its matter of fact tone as you pick your way through the debris to its source.  In the kitchen you find a young, clean shaven officer from the Saratoga Falls Police Department making notes in a small book as he talks with your mother.  Your mother has clearly been crying, and she looks round as you enter the room.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh Will,” she says unevenly.  “We’ve been robbed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well Ma’am,” says the officer.  “That’s what we’re going over just now.  From what you’ve told me, you haven’t found anything missing yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s right.  Every room has been turned over, but nothing seems to be missing.  All the electrical good, all my jewellery, the credit cards.  Everything is still here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think, perhaps,” asks the officer “That the thief may have been looking for something specific?”<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach turns a somersault.<br/>
<br/>
“Harris, my husband.  He works for Salopak.  Maybe the thief was looking for something from there, but Harris never brings any work home with him.  It’s simply not allowed.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about you young man, do you mind if I call you Will by the way?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod your head weakly.<br/>
<br/>
“Well Will, can you think of anything specific that the thief might have been looking for?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say quietly, hoping like hell that the police officer doesn’t spot the lie.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, your mobile phone buzzes briefly, grabbing your attention before you can spill your guts to the officer.  You flip it open and look at the message.<br/>
<br/>
“whr r u cuz” it reads.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko!  You’d forgotten about the meeting you had arranged.  Filled with a desire to be anywhere but here, you speak to your mother. <br/>
<br/>
“That was Caleb.  We have a project to work on at school.  Can I go round to his for a bit?  It will keep me out of the way for a few hours.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, yes… That will be alright wont it officer?” she asks, turning to the police officer.  “You don’t need to ask my son anything more, do you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” smiles the officer.  “You go along now Will.  Remember, if you can think of anything, tell your mother for me.  I’ll be passing along my contact details to her so she can let me know.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Umeko is waiting for you by the gates of the abandoned school.  She is quite taken aback when you hiss at her to get out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
“What was that about?” she asks once you are inside the basement.<br/>
<br/>
“That Blackwell guy was waiting for me outside the house this morning,” you say, checking where you stashed the book and materials.  Luckily everything is undisturbed.  “He offered me a thousand dollars for the book then raged at me when I refused.”<br/>
<br/>
“So?  No reason to snap at me”<br/>
<br/>
“Then, when I go home I find my Mom in tears talking to a police guy because the house has been ransacked.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit.  Anything taken?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the thing:  Nothing,” you reply.  “So the police guy asks ‘Were they looking for something specific’ and it clicks:  That fuck Blackwell did it.  He wants the book.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko stands silently for a second, rubbing her temple.<br/>
<br/>
“So we got lucky then,” she eventually says.  “All we need to do is be careful and make sure nobody follows us down here and the book will be safe.  Even better if we find somewhere to hide it here.  This place is such a mess no one could find anything unless they knew where to look.  You didn’t tell them about Blackwell did you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Would they even believe me?  No, I didn’t.  What about your mask.  Did you use it?”<br/>
<br/>
“I only finished polishing it last night.  You weren’t wrong about that.  Did you unlock the new spell?”<br/>
<br/>
You pick up one of the memory bands from inside your stash and show it to Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
“I made two of these things last night, but the book wont unlock the next page for an unused one I think.”<br/>
<br/>
“So use one then,” says Umeko impatiently.  “You know how to do that right?”<br/>
<br/>
You sigh before replying.<br/>
<br/>
“Like the mask I guess, lay it across someone’s forehead.  If it’s like the mask it’ll knock em out for a bit.  Didn’t want to try it on my own down here obviously.  With the two of us we could do it.<br/>
<br/>
“Nuh-uh,” says Umeko quickly.  “I’m not sure I like the idea of you taking a walk around inside my head.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fucked If I’m letting you walk around inside my head,” you reply, cursing your lack of imagination.   “Ok, how about we flip a coin for it:  We test the strip on the loser and the winner gets to use the strip to see if it works.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko narrows her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
“I guess,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
You take a quarter from your wallet and flip it into the air.<br/>
<br/>
“Heads,”  calls Umeko.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231121
author_id: imaj
title: Tails: Will wins
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You catch the coin on the back of your right hand, covering it with your left hand.  When Umeko walks over you reveal it.<br/>
<br/>
“Tails it is,” she says glumly.<br/>
<br/>
“You should sit down in one of the chairs before we use this.  I don’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s thoughtful of you,” she says slightly bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko holds to the deal though.  She sits in the chair and allows you to place the band on her forehead.  Her eyelids flutter for a few seconds and then she slumps.  It’s strange watching the band sink into her skin and vanish.<br/>
<br/>
Five minutes pass so very slowly.  Umeko’s breathing becomes slower and you are beginning to think you should check her pulse when the band reappears on her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
You take the band carefully and examine it as Umeko starts to stir from her slumber.  The runes that you had to carve into the band have marred a little.  The most obvious difference is the faintly glowing letters that seem to hover just above the band.  “Umeko Prescott” they read.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s it?” she asks, appearing at your shoulder.  “That’s all my thoughts and memories?”<br/>
<br/>
“One way to find out,” you say and slam the band against your forehead.<br/>
<br/>
At this point your mind explodes.<br/>
<br/>
It feels like you brain is being twisted and pulled apart.  Hundreds of little fragments of memory raise unbidden to the surface.  A four year old being racist to you in kindergarden.  Your first period.  The first time you kissed a boy.  The shock of watching your cousin morph into a prefect copy of you.  There is a bright searing light then everything is still.<br/>
<br/>
Groggily, you open your eyes and realise you’ve fallen to the floor.  Umeko helps you to your feet.<br/>
<br/>
“Happy now,” she says resentfully, though you miss the tone of her voice.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s…  It’s weird,” you reply, rubbing at your temple without realising.  “It’s like I have this instant reference in front of me.  Like I can Google for any part of your life and there it is.  And then there’s your feelings, there in the background, or I can just let them wash over me.  I can look around and just know what it is you would do, and I can sit back and let it happen or do what I want.  And you are really pissed at me right now and…”<br/>
<br/>
“And?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh,” you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh?”<br/>
<br/>
“I never realised…  I…” you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh why not let the whole world know,” she says angrily.<br/>
<br/>
With a word you rip the band from your forehead  and stumble.  Recovering your composure, you hand the band to Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m sorry,” you say softly.  “I feel like an idiot.  Do Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary know?”<br/>
<br/>
“That I’m a lesbian?” snarks Umeko. “No.”<br/>
<br/>
“I wont use that again, I promise.  And I wont tell anyone.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko smiles a sad little smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, let’s see what the new spell is,” she says.  “I brought my laptop so we could translate it”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
It’s pretty simple to translate the new spell, and it’s a surprisingly obvious one when you think about it.  It barely even counts as a spell at all.  You can combine both mask and band into one object to create what, to your mind must be, an almost perfect disguise:  The thoughts and form of another.  It’s a little bit difficult to do with what you brought here, but Umeko had the presence of mind to bring one of Uncle Scott’s toolboxes and within a couple of hours you have two sets of bonded masks and bands.  One of Umeko, one blank.<br/>
<br/>
You press the mask of Umeko against the most recently revealed page of the book to reveal the next spell.  It’s long and complicated so Umeko suggests translating it tomorrow.<br/>
<br/>
“So what about the blank mask,” you ask once you’ve completed the bonding.<br/>
<br/>
“What about it?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I’m not using your mask again.  I said I wouldn’t.  Who should we capture on the new mask?<br/>
<br/>
“I still hadn’t thought about it that much.”<br/>
<br/>
“I could make it up to you, use it to absorb whatever image you want.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, snag a cheerleader for me,” she says sticking her tongue out at you.  “What we should do is start working out what this Blackwell guy is about.  There must be someone you could use the mask to copy that would let you get close to him”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112311211
author_id: imaj
title: Snag a cheerleader
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're pretty sure Umeko wasn't serious when she said <i>'Snag a cheerleader for me'</i>, but if she can't find a use for one, you will.<br/>
<br/>
The problem, you find yourself thinking as you open your locker at school on Tuesday is separating one from the pack.  Your friend Caleb, who you share a locker with, hasn't arrived yet so you are able to take your books from your bag in relative peace.  The blank mask you keep wrapped up in case you get lucky.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as Lin Pol, Jessica Garner and Yumi Saito walk down the hall as if they owned it.  Cheerleaders all.  You cant think of a way to get one away from the other two.  You can't even think of a way to talk to them without being brushed off.  You sigh audibly.<br/>
<br/>
'I hear ya,' says Caleb from behind you.  He openly admires the girls asses as they sway down the corridor away from you.  'But not for the likes of us.  Pity.'<br/>
<br/>
'I'm surprised you get any work down round here with your jaw hanging open like that.'<br/>
<br/>
'Hey, I'm surprised too, but at least we get the best seats in the house in Chemistry, right?  Right?'<br/>
<br/>
He's referring to the fact that Eva and Jessica Garner sit directly in front of you and Caleb in your chemistry class.  That's about the closest you'll get to them all day.<br/>
<br/>
'They only ever turn round to tell you to stop staring at them.  Hell, Eva would add a few choice words in there too,' you reply.<br/>
<br/>
'Not today my friend, not today.'<br/>
<br/>
'Huh?'<br/>
<br/>
'Eva's got a cold.  I overheard them talking about it as I came in,' says Caleb.  'It was right before Lin kicked me in the leg for being an 'eavesdropping creep'.  Today I get to watch Jessica, blonde, busty Jessica I remind you, with no interruptions from her snotty sister.'<br/>
<br/>
'One, Jessica is just as snotty.  Two, Manderly will just move her to lab partner with someone else.'<br/>
<br/>
'Spoil my dreams why don't ya.'<br/>
<br/>
You're not really listening to your friend because slowly an idea is forming in your head.<br/>
<br/>
'Skip Chemistry,' you say to Caleb urgently.<br/>
<br/>
'What?'<br/>
<br/>
'Skip Chemistry and I will owe you.'<br/>
<br/>
'Oh I get it,' grins Caleb.  'You want the lovely Jessica to be your lab partner huh?  Well maybe I want <i>you</i> to skip Chemistry so <i>I</i> can partner her.'<br/>
<br/>
'Caleb,' you say impatiently.  'Skip Chemistry.  I will pay you.  I will owe you the world's biggest favour, and believe me when I say I will repay you big time.'<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
It took some haggling, but you were able persuade Caleb to ditch Chemistry.  Now you find yourself sitting on your own directly behind an equally on her own Jessica Garner.  You are relying on Mr Manderly's reputation as one of the laziest teachers in school.  After explaining the experiment you will be doing by reading it from a textbook, he does not disappoint you when you raise your hand and say.<br/>
<br/>
'Sir, I don't have a lab partner today.'<br/>
<br/>
An easy problem has presented itself and Manderly, true to form, goes for the easy solution.<br/>
<br/>
'You can work with Jessica today Will,' he grumbles.  'Since she is also missing a partner.'<br/>
<br/>
Phase one complete.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, now you have to put up with thirty minutes of bitchiness, complaining and overt hostility from the cheerleader.  Not even sneaking glances at her more than ample breasts can compensate for that, but its worth it when you put phase two into operation five minutes before the end of the period and the start of lunch break.<br/>
<br/>
'Watch what you're doing freak,' screeches Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
Oh dear, you have 'accidently' knocked over a bubbling beaker, making a mess on the workbench.<br/>
<br/>
'Hrmm, what's that,' asks Manderly looking up from whatever he was doing on his computer.  'Looks like you two will have to stay behind to clear that up.'<br/>
<br/>
'But it was the freak's fault,' whines Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
'Ah,' says Manderly holding up his index finger.<br/>
<br/>
'But'' tries Jessica again.<br/>
<br/>
'Ah,' says Manderly wagging the finger slowly from left to right.  'Unless you'd rather come back after school.'<br/>
<br/>
Jessica grimaces sullenly and starts to help clear up the mess you made.  Both of you are still working at it when the bell goes a few minutes later.  Again true to form, Manderly leaves the classroom with little more than 'And don't you leave until it's cleared up.'<br/>
<br/>
Which leaves you and Jessica in the classroom.<br/>
<br/>
Alone.<br/>
<br/>
It doesn't matter that Jessica is packing her book into her bag to leave now because it's easy enough for you to sneak the mask onto her face from behind.  You catch her as she slumps and lower her gently to the floor.  The last remains of the mess are easily cleaned up whilst waiting for the mask to re-emerge.  That leaves a few seconds to stow it and look suitably concerned before she wakes up.<br/>
<br/>
'Wha'.' she mumbles dozily.<br/>
<br/>
'Are you ok,' you ask, oozing concern.  'You just' blacked out and toppled over.'<br/>
<br/>
'Huh,' she murmurs before suddenly snapping alert.  'What did you do to me freak?'<br/>
<br/>
Unconscious to bitch in less than five seconds.  Impressive.<br/>
<br/>
Jessica scrambles to her feet and looks round the room urgently.<br/>
<br/>
'You, you'' she begins unsurely.<br/>
<br/>
'You should go see the nurse or something,' you say.  'Just in case, you know?'<br/>
<br/>
'Just stay away from me,' she says as she stalks out the room.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
'Ta Da,' you say, flourishing the newly sealed mask of Jessica Garner as Umeko arrives in the elementary school basement.<br/>
<br/>
'You picked up someone from school then,' she says.  'Oh, and Hi.  Good to see you too.'<br/>
<br/>
'You should have seen my masterplan Umeko.  I am a genius!' you boast.  'Separated my target from the pack.  Moved in.  Mask on, mask off and she walked away none the wiser.'<br/>
<br/>
'She,' asks Umeko, raising an eyebrow.  'Why don't you tell me who it is then?'<br/>
<br/>
'Better yet,' you reply.  'Why don't I show you.'<br/>
<br/>
You've prepared for this.  You went home first and changed into a loose t-shirt and some elasticated sweatpants.  Jessica's frame is a bit smaller than your own, but even this baggy old shirt is going to be a tight fit.  You lie on the floor and place the mask over your face.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly its like being inside a very small room with someone else.  Their presence is everywhere, all around you.  Inside you.  For a brief second you feel free of all your worries and problems and drink in the simple joy of being someone else.<br/>
<br/>
You bounce to your feet with a girlish giggle.<br/>
<br/>
'One cheerleader delivered, as requested,' you say smiling dazzlingly.<br/>
<br/>
'One cheerleader,' says Umeko weakly chewing her lip.  'And it's everything?  Body and memories?'<br/>
<br/>
'Oh yes,' you say, turning a backflip to prove your point.  'Even better than the real thing in fact, since I am not a total bitch.  Well, I could be if I chose to be.  Her own mother wouldn't be able to tell the difference'<br/>
<br/>
'I wasn't being serious when I said to snag a cheerleader,' says Umeko nervously.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123112111
author_id: imaj
title: "But I kind of like this one"
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span> “I wasn’t being serious when I said to snag a cheerleader,” says Umeko nervously.<br/>
<br/>
Her lip trembles nervously for a second.<br/>
<br/>
“But I kind of like this one.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko takes a single, unsteady, step forward.  She reaches forward and kisses you gently on the lips.<br/>
<br/>
You stagger backwards, a mess of conflicting emotions.  On the one hand, you’ve fantasized about this day for years.  Admittedly in those fantasies you were a guy but right now you aren’t going to let a minor thing lack that get in the way.  <br/>
<br/>
On the other hand, the Jessica persona of the mask of the mask is disgusted and is practically fighting for control.  Your hands involuntarily tense up into fists, and you are almost ready to punch Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
“Is…  Is something wrong,” she says.  She looks like she is ready to burst into tears.  “I thought you wanted this.”<br/>
<br/>
Breathing deeply you manage to reign in Jessica’s indignation.  You relax your hands.<br/>
<br/>
“I nearly let Jessica’s feelings get the better of me,” you say stepping forward again.<br/>
<br/>
You softly caress Umeko’s face with your hands.<br/>
<br/>
“I do want this,” you say.  “I want this so badly.”<br/>
<br/>
You lean forward and kiss her tenderly.  She practically melts in your arms.  You feel her tongue explore your mouth, slowly at first, then increasingly and increasingly aggressively.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh wow,” you murmur, coming up for air<br/>
<br/>
Umeko’s hands run down your body, gently squeezing your new breasts as they pass.  They find the bottom edge of your t-shirt and she practically rips it off, setting your stolen boobs jiggling.  With the palm of her hand, she pushes you slowly to the floor and straddles you.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko fumbles the buttons of her blouse undone as you try to struggle from under her grasp.  She throws it to one side  and unclasps her bra, letting her small perky breasts bounce freely.  Umeko dives on top of you again, hungrily kissing you and mashing your boobs together.<br/>
<br/>
She slips one hand under the waistband of your sweatpants, dragging them away to reveal your naked crotch beneath.  You return the favour, undoing her skirt and pulling her panties away.  Umeko sits back up then jams her groin hard against your own and starts grinding furiously.<br/>
<br/>
For what seems like age, you both bite, tickle, tease, flick, rub, squeeze, nip, lick and grind.  You both moan, gasp, whine, groan, wail, sigh and cry.<br/>
<br/>
Then your world explodes in a bright white flare of pure pleasure.<br/>
<br/>
It happens again three more times before you finally finish.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re snuggling up with Umeko in an impromptu bed made up of a couple of rugs and a few cushions you found lying in the basement.  A slick sheen of sweat and juices covers your skin.  Umeko is idly playing with one of your Jessica breasts, gently teasing and tweaking the nipple.<br/>
<br/>
“Amazing,” you say tiredly.  “Simply amazing.  I never realised.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” smiles Umeko lazily.  “And you didn’t do to badly, for a first attempt.”<br/>
<br/>
“What?  I’ve been with plenty of girls” you bluster.  You’re lying of course.<br/>
<br/>
“Hah,” says Umeko scornfully.  “Name one.”<br/>
<br/>
She stares at you for a minute and bursts into a fit of giggles<br/>
<br/>
“Even if I did believe you,” she continues.  “You’d never have been with one as another woman.  That’s a whole different ball game.”<br/>
<br/>
She pauses for a second with a thoughtful expression on her face.<br/>
<br/>
“Largely because there are no balls involved,” she finishes.<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose you are an expert then,” you reply sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not the one that’s being lying and grinning inanely for the last hour.  I think that says a lot,” she says sticking her tongue out at you.  “If we could put my experience in a body like Jessica’s…”<br/>
<br/>
“I think we can,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“What? How?”<br/>
<br/>
“There’s nothing to say that the memory strip and mask have to match is there?  We make another band with your memories and attach it to a mask of some other cheerleader.  Now that I can be Jessica, it’ll be easy to get access to any of them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm,  I’m not sure I like the idea of you rummaging around my memories.  Then again the damage has already be done there.”<br/>
<br/>
“It was just a suggestion,” you say conciliatorily.  “We could move onto the next spell instead.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231121112
author_id: imaj
title: Investigate the Next Spell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Umeko stretches lazily.<br/>
<br/>
'It's tempting,' she says.  'But we're forgetting about that Blackwell guy.  He's already hit your family once.  I say we go to work on the next spell.  It could be useful.'<br/>
<br/>
Reluctantly, you have to agree with her.  You don't know what he could do next, so finding out more about the book is the sensible step.  You quickly dress and remove the Jessica mask.<br/>
<br/>
'I'd already started on translating the spell before you arrived,' says Umeko coolly.  She seems a little more distant now for some reason.  'I've got most of it on my laptop.'<br/>
<br/>
You lean over her and examine the translation.  Shaking your head in disbelief, you point out part of the spell.<br/>
<br/>
'Are you sure you got that right?  Four hundred pounds.'<br/>
<br/>
'I triple checked it Will, and yes, the bit about it being from a graveyard too.'<br/>
<br/>
'Fuck,' you exclaim.  'Where the hell are we going to get that from?'<br/>
<br/>
'A graveyard,' she replies levelly.  'The old Acheson graveyard isn't far from here and hasn't been used for decades.  All we need is some manpower.'<br/>
<br/>
'We can hardly just stroll in there though.'<br/>
<br/>
'So we do it at night, under cover of darkness.  And by 'we' I mean you.  The graveyard earth isn't the main problem it's this fuel here,' Umeko says, indicating another part of the translation.<br/>
<br/>
'I don't understand.'<br/>
<br/>
'Well I checked on the Internet.  It's going to cost us a couple of hundred dollars to get enough.  What are your savings like?'<br/>
<br/>
'I'm flat out broke.  I blew the last of what I had buying materials to make the masks.  We do still have enough for a couple more.'<br/>
<br/>
'I've been working part time since I left Eastman,' admits Umeko.  'Just to raise enough money to get me started at college next year.  I could dip into that.'<br/>
<br/>
She pauses for a second and looks at the discarded mask of Jessica.<br/>
<br/>
'Or,' she continues.  'We could use the mask to steal some of Jessica's money.'<br/>
<br/>
'I'm not sure I like that idea,' you reply.  'Blackwell may break into houses, but I'm not going to sink to his level.'<br/>
<br/>
'You've already stolen her face Will, her memories too,' states Umeko.  'What we did tonight wasn't exactly moral.'<br/>
<br/>
'Well, I'll find some way to pay you back then.  Jessica might be a bitch, but that doesn't mean we should steal from her.'<br/>
<br/>
'Ok, deal.  You get the graveyard earth tomorrow night,  I'll get the fuel.  We come back here on Saturday afternoon and cast the spell then.<br/>
<br/>
'Deal,' you agree.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You go to bed early on the Wednesday night, explaining to your mother that you've had a busy week. In fact, you set your alarm for 12:30am and sneak out the house loading a pile of sacks and a shovel onto your truck.<br/>
<br/>
The old graveyard isn't too far from your house. It's easy enough to bust the rusted lock on the wrought iron gate. Five hours of back breaking labour later and you moved more than enough graveyard earth to the old elementary school. You make it back to your house in the pre-dawn twilight, replacing the shovel before collapsing into you bed. You awake just before lunch to the smell of your mother frying up some bacon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Umeko is waiting for you when you arrive at the school mid-afternoon the next day.<br/>
<br/>
'Took your time,' she says acidly.<br/>
<br/>
'I was up to five in the morning shovelling that crap,' you complain.<br/>
<br/>
'And I had to put the whole spell together,' she continues, ignoring you.  'Almost all of it, anyway.'<br/>
<br/>
'You got the fuel, right?'<br/>
<br/>
'Of course I got the fuel Will, you owe me for that by the way.'<br/>
<br/>
'Shovelling dirt at 5AM doesn't count for that then,' you mumble under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
'No, it doesn't,' Umeko replies.  'Because I had to move it all up onto the desk here.'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko indicates a large pile earth piled high onto an old school desk.  Here and there, you can spot something scrawled onto the desk peeking out from underneath the earth.  The earth itself is damp, you think from the fuels.  The smell of the fuel vapour makes you feel quite light headed.<br/>
<br/>
'Looks ready to me,' you say, backing away.<br/>
<br/>
'Needs a lock of your hair,' sniffs Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
'My hair? Why?'<br/>
<br/>
'Your book, your spell, your hair,' says Umeko, raising a pair of scissors to your head.  'There we go.   Didn't hurt at all did it?'<br/>
<br/>
Umeko carefully places the lock of hair in the mound and hands you a matchbook.<br/>
<br/>
'All you need to do is light it,' she says.<br/>
<br/>
'Easy enough,' you reply.  'Hey, where are you going?'<br/>
<br/>
'I'm just going to watch.  From over here.  Behind the overturned lockers.  Don't worry, I'm sure it's totally safe.'<br/>
<br/>
You cast a lit match to the mound and for a brief moment a bright purple flare almost blinds you. As your vision returns you see the fire has settled down to a dull, ghostly purple glow. No heat comes from the mound and you pass your hand through the fires and feel nothing.<br/>
<br/>
'Told you it was safe,' comes Umeko's voice from behind the lockers.  'Eyebrows are over-rated anyway.'<br/>
<br/>
'The fuck,' you mumble.<br/>
<br/>
'Kidding. Anyway, look here,' she says indicating her translation.  'It's going to take several days to finish the spell.  Every time it burns out you relight it.  When it fails to catch fire again, it's done.'<br/>
<br/>
'We could get a couple more masks ready in that time.  Polish one each while we keep an eye on that' thing' you say.<br/>
<br/>
'Deal.'<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Life at home is tough for the next few days.  Just as your mother is finally finishing off clearing the mess caused by the burglary, your father announces on Monday evening that his project at work has been cancelled.  Worse, it seems his boss, Hank Wilson is riding him hard on some seemingly unimportant matter.  On more than one occasion you hear raised voices as your parents argue and fight.<br/>
<br/>
Meeting Umeko at the school to just hang out and chat while polishing the masks is like an escape.  The mind numbing tedium of the task seems strangely therapeutic.  Umeko's company is enjoyable too, whether its as a light-hearted foil to Will or, as on one further occasion, Jessica's lover.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you find yourself as Jessica, basking in the afterglow of a marathon sex session to celebrate the completion of the new masks when the fire finally goes out for the last time on the following Thursday.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
'I think it's like done,' you say, unable to contain Jessica's personality in the excitement.<br/>
<br/>
'Here,' says Umeko throwing you a cloth.  'The book says we have to polish it before it can be used.<br/>
<br/>
'No way,' you exclaim.  'That going to take totally forever.'<br/>
<br/>
In fact, it only takes a light dusting to remove the surface dirt.  Underneath all that remains is a shapeless grey mass of unyielding clay.<br/>
<br/>
'It needs a mask,' you say.  'Look at the translation.'<br/>
<br/>
'Yeah,' concurs Umeko.  'Take the Jessica mask off.'<br/>
<br/>
'Nuh-uh,' you whine.  'We still have the mask of you that we made last week.  We could use it instead.'<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112311211121
author_id: imaj
title: Golem Jessica Is Unhappy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Reluctantly you remove the mask of Jessica, getting dressed before you apply it to the golem.  The grey granite surface ripples like water as the mask sinks without a trace.  The mass of clay glows a dull off white as it shrinks and assumes more human proportions.  As the glow fades you see it’s taken a more pinkish colour, in fact it looks identical to Jessica Garner.  It’s even still slick with the sweat that you had worked up a little while.<br/>
<br/>
You reach out and touch it, it feels like real skin now<br/>
<br/>
“Hands off freak,” the golem says, its eyes flicking open.<br/>
<br/>
It leaps to the floor and waves an accusatory finger right in front of your face.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” you say holding both your hands up to placate it.  “Easy now.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem takes a step back, but it still glowers at you menacingly.  Umeko walks over to you, a rug wrapped around her chest.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh look,” sneers the golem.  “The dyke and her fucktoy.”<br/>
<br/>
“What,” you and Umeko both shout in unison.<br/>
<br/>
“You two perverts disgust me,” the golem continues.  “And now I’ve got memories of god-damned antics stuck in my head.  I hope you both burn in hell.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko looks like she’s about to burst into tears.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop it,” you shout at the golem and, to your surprise, it immediately stops mid-invective.<br/>
<br/>
“Why did she stop,” asks Umeko nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t need to fucking tell you,” snarks the golem.<br/>
<br/>
“But you need to tell me,” you guess.  “Don’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” it replies acidly.  “I wasn’t about to tell you if didn’t work it out for yourself, <i>master</i>”<br/>
<br/>
The last word drips with venom.<br/>
<br/>
“How does she know about me,” asks Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
The golem folds its arms and stares to one side.<br/>
<br/>
“Answer her question.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fine!  I know everything that this mask knows.  You put it on, you do something, the mask remembers.  So yes, I know all about your dirty little fuckfests.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit,” says Umeko quietly<br/>
<br/>
“Well, at least we found out about it now.  It could have caused a lot more problems later on,” you say to Uemko.  “I could always order it to not tell anyone about what it remembers from when I’m wearing the mask.”<br/>
<br/>
“While you’re at it,” replies Umeko.  “You could order it to be nice to us.”<br/>
<br/>
“You total fucking losers, don’t you fucking dare,” screams the golem, but it’s too late, you’ve made up your mind.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re going to be nice to us from now on,” you begin.  “Treat us like we are your friends.  Don’t tell anybody about what happens when someone else is wearing the mask.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem’s face goes blank for a few moment then it smiles dazzlingly.<br/>
<br/>
“I am so sorry guys,” it beams.  “I like don’t know what came over me there.  BFFs?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” you reply weakly<br/>
<br/>
“I think I preferred her before,” whispers Umeko in your ear.  “This is all a bit hypnotoad.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you remember why you were angry,” you ask, testing your commands.<br/>
<br/>
The golem looks puzzled for a brief second.<br/>
<br/>
“I remember it being something like totally squick,” it says hesitantly.  “But then I remembered you guys were my friends so it didn’t matter.”<br/>
<br/>
You step forward and, whispering a magic word gleaned from the book, remove the Jessica mask from the golem.  It reverts to a featureless grey skinned humanoid within seconds.  For some reason it reminds you of the wooden dolls they use in Art class to help teach proportions.<br/>
<br/>
“So what do we do with it,” you ask Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
“It creeps me out,” she replies.  “But I can see how it would be useful.”<br/>
<br/>
“As a slave?  You saw how confused it was when I asked it about why it was upset.  It knows, it can’t say.  That’s the sort of thing that drives people mad.  Actual, locked up in a loony bin mad. <i>Maaaaad</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“As long as you can command it that’s not a problem,”<br/>
<br/>
“It was smart – clever enough to find its way around instructions it didn’t like.  Not a risk we should take.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok,” she concedes.  “You may have a point.  It’s still useful though.  We’re going to go after Blackwell, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“We have to do something about him,” you agree.  “Every dinner everyone is sitting quietly doing their best not to look at each other.  Or it’s a blazing row.  The thing with my Dad’s job: Maybe it’s just me but I keep thinking Blackwell’s behind it.”<br/>
<br/>
“So we have two masks ready – we can go hunt the guy down.  Think about this though:  You’re off pretending to be someone else.  What do Uncle Harris and Aunt Martha think if you go missing?”<br/>
<br/>
“I hadn’t thought about that,” you admit.<br/>
<br/>
“So, you make a mask of yourself, put it on the golem.  It pretends to be you for a few days.”<br/>
<br/>
“Golem?”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the word the book used yeah,” explains Umeko.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually that’s a really good idea Umeko”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks,” she blushes.  “You know, we could make a second golem too and that way we’d both be able to work on Blackwell without anyone missing us.  I mean, we already have a mask of me anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
The thought of another night time visit to the cemetery fills you with dread.<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh,” you moan.  “A lot of effort.  I’ll translate the next spell first and see what that does.  The real question is where do we start with Blackwell?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really think he’s behind whatever’s happening at Salopak?”<br/>
<br/>
“If he owned the book before, he might have cast some of the spells as well.  With the right mask he could do anything,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s kind of a scary thought.  He could be anyone we know and we’d never be able to tell.  Where else could we look?”<br/>
<br/>
“Arnholm’s Used Books?  That’s where I first met the guy so maybe one of the Arnholms will know more about him.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123112111212
author_id: imaj
title: Arnholm's Favourite Customers
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I don’t like this,” you say, one hand resting on the door to Arnholm’s Used Books.<br/>
<br/>
“You said that,” replies Umeko, rolling her eyes.  “At least five times already.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I don’t,” you say, crossing your arms.<br/>
<br/>
“Look,  we gave Jessica clear instructions,” says Umeko, placing a faint stress on the name.  “Polish up the mask, don’t leave the basement.  She’s not going to get in trouble.  Besides, she’s our friend now.”<br/>
<br/>
“My mom will kill me if she finds out I’m skipping school”<br/>
<br/>
“Now you’re just looking for excuses,” says Umeko irritably.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, we could have made a mask of me and sent the golem out to school in my place.  I could put the mask on this evening and pick up on all the classes I’ve missed during the day.  It’s an important year for me,” you ramble.<br/>
<br/>
“When did you start caring about schoolwork Will,” she replies, arching an eyebrow.  “Anyway, if we did that we’d have no masks ready to use and no one polishing up a new one.  This way we have one in my bag ready to use, if we see an opportunity.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, ok,” you concede, raising your hands in surrender.  “But I still don’t like it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Whatever,” says Umeko, pushing you through the doorway.<br/>
<br/>
Ted Arnholm is behind the counter when you arrive. He looks up from his well thumbed copy of The Thing On The Doorstep and grimaces.<br/>
<br/>
“You,” he grumbles. “Again. And this time you’ve brought a friend.  Oh happy day.”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…” you begin at a loss for words.<br/>
<br/>
“I bet that attitude has books flying off the shelf Mr Arnholm,” says Umeko, smiling broadly.<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t understand the second hand book trade, do you young lady?”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess that’s why you’re the one behind the counter sir,” she says sweetly.  In your experience the more innocent Umeko is trying to sound, the more sarcastic she is being.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you remember the last time I was here Mr Arnholm,” you ask politely.  He nods and you continue.  “I’m trying to find the man that wanted to buy my book.  His name was Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“I should tell you the same thing I told him,” Arnholm replies, his eyes narrowing.  “No private details of customers, but he did promise me a finder’s fee if you sold him the book.”<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm puts his book down on the table and sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“If I give you the card he left me, will the pair of you promise that you will never come back in my shop again?”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you treat all your customers this way,” asks Umeko innocently.<br/>
<br/>
“I promise,” you say quickly, elbowing Umeko in the ribs.  “She promises too.”<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm reaches under the counter and pulls out a business card.<br/>
<br/>
“Take it,” he says, offering the card. “And go.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Umeko surreptitiously opens one of the double doors into the lecture hall a fraction and peers inside.<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t think they taught archaeology here,” you mumble to no one in particular.  “I mean it’s supposed to be Keyserling School of Mining &amp; Technology.”<br/>
<br/>
“They’ll teach anything that people pay for,” hisses Umeko.  “Now shut up and come on in.  He’s showing slides.  It’s dark and no one will see us.”<br/>
<br/>
You slip through the doors behind Umeko, who crouches as she moves into the empty back row of seats.  Slinking in beside her, you turn to talk to her.  She motions you to be quiet with a wave of her hand.<br/>
<br/>
Well, obviously Umeko’s interested in the Mesopotamians, or whoever the hell it is Blackwell is droning on about.  You, however, aren’t, so your attention drifts as you take in the lecture hall.  Most of the class seems to be sitting down the front, but there are a pair of girls sitting in the row in front, a little to the left.  You sidle over to eavesdrop on their whispered conversation.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you thinking of going for that cataloguing job he was talking about Mels,” asks the first girl.<br/>
<br/>
“Not really,” replies her friend flatly.  “If I’m being honest, I find him unsettling sometimes.  I don’t want to think what his house would be like.”<br/>
<br/>
“You know he’d give it you over anyone else,” continues the first girl cheerily.  “Top student and so on.”<br/>
<br/>
“But I don’t want it,” states the one called Mels flatly.<br/>
<br/>
“Would you mind if I went for it,” asks the first girl hopefully.  “I’m a bit short of cash right now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not at all Zoe.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks Mels, I’ll go see him after this.  Get you in the library later?”<br/>
<br/>
“Third floor, as usual,” says Mels, a little more brightly.  “Now can you be quiet and let me hear what he’s saying.”<br/>
<br/>
You creep back over to Umeko just as the lights come back up. You hit the floor to avoid being seen, pulling her down with you.<br/>
<br/>
“We’ll just have to lie here till the hall empties,” you whisper to Umeko.  “Don’t want to be seen by Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Finally,” says Blackwell, his voice resonating clearly around the hall. “As I said right at the very start, I am still looking for a new research assistant to help me catalogue my extensive collection. Anyone who cares to supplement their income with a modest stipend should come by my office this afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
And with that all the students file out.  You watch as Mels, gangly and drab, and Zoe, a little overweight and with a fascination for the colour black, leave. You watch from below the seats as one young woman walks down to where Blackwell stands at the lectern. She waits until everybody else has left before speaking to him.<br/>
<br/>
“Lock the doors,” she says matter of factly. “Then come back down here.”<br/>
<br/>
You press yourself as flatly as you can to the floor and the row in front as Blackwell walks past to lock the rear doors. As he moves to repeat the process at the front doors you crawl along the floor to the edge of the row to get a better look.<br/>
<br/>
The young woman looks familiar but you can’t quite place her. She takes what looks like a mask out of her bag and starts to turn it over in her hands. Even at this distance you recognise the tell tale matte surface on the inside that signifies the mask has been sealed.<br/>
<br/>
“Only one blank left,” she murmurs. “And that has to be saved for that fool of a boy. This had better work.”<br/>
<br/>
You realise she is talking to herself because, although Blackwell is standing next to her, he is vacant and unresponsive. You watch, mouth open as she slips off her sweater and starts to unbutton her blouse.<br/>
<br/>
“Lucy Vredenburg,” you whisper to Umeko, who is lying beside you with a shocked expression on her face.  “I’d know those boo…  I mean I’d recognise her face anywhere.”<br/>
<br/>
“Clothes off,” Lucy orders Blackwell. You’re surprised to see him comply.<br/>
<br/>
And then, once they are both naked, just when you thought things couldn’t become any weirder, Lucy mumbles a word under her breath and rips of Blackwell’s face. It’s another mask, and underneath it…<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231121112121
author_id: imaj
title: He Has Golems!
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Is that a golem,” Umeko says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure fucking looks like one,” you whisper back.<br/>
<br/>
You almost don’t notice as Lucy removes her mask to reveal Blackwell underneath. He takes a moment to recover his composure then carefully places the mask he just removed from himself onto the thing. The effect is almost instantaneous, grey rock softens to pink flesh and another Lucy stands naked in the hall, clearly scowling at Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“Put your clothes back on,” he says, picking up the mask he removed from Lucy’s bag. “Follow your life as you would normally till the weekend. After that point you are to attempt to bring this girl to me when an opportunity presents itself. You are to tell no-one about me. Do you understand?”<br/>
<br/>
Lucy nods sullenly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You hand Umeko her coffee and sit down opposite her.  She’s still visibly shaken by what she saw in the lecture hall.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s coming after you,” she states tonelessly.  It’s about the fourth or fifth time she’s said it since you escaped the hall.  You don’t feel like mentioning that.  “And he’s going to use this girl, become this girl, Cindy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Who else could Blackwell have been talking about?  Cindy is Lucy’s sister, so it’d be an easy swap for him.”<br/>
<br/>
“What happened to the real Lucy,” ask Umeko nervously.  “What’s he going to do to Cindy?”<br/>
<br/>
You stare at each other silently for a minute.  It doesn’t bear thinking about.<br/>
<br/>
“We have to stop him,” you say, surprised at how determined you sound.  “And I think I know how.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you have any idea,” says Umeko with a faint smile.  It’s good to see her recovering a little.  “How corny that sounds?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” you exclaim, giving her forearm an friendly shake.  “It may be corny, but it’s true.  That research assistant thing Blackwell mentioned.  I know just the person he’d give it to, and where she is right now.  If we grab her face we can take the fight to him.”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t want to say this before,” says Umeko quietly.  “But I took a look at the next spell last night.  I think it helps you keep someone out of the way so you can wear their mask.  Without there being two of whoever the mask is running around.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think Blackwell’s using that?”<br/>
<br/>
“No.  At least I think not.  Not without the book.  I mean,” Umeko hesitates for a second.  “We could use it.”<br/>
<br/>
“To replace this Mels girl I overheard?  I don’t think we’d need to.  Just get the job as her.  Besides, is it even safe?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” says Umeko quickly.  “No.  I don’t know.  That’s not what I meant.  You said Cindy was a cheerleader?”<br/>
<br/>
“She is,” you reply, looking at Umeko sidelong.  “Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, so’s Jessica.  We could go after him at your school too.”<br/>
<br/>
“You just want inside her panties,” you snark.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe,” replies Umeko, sticking her tongue out at you.<br/>
<br/>
“It might work,” you concede.  “We’ll need to make a decision quickly though if we want to get this job of Blackwell’s.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231122
author_id: imaj
title: Heads: Umeko wins
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You catch the coin on the back of your right hand, covering it with your left hand.  When Umeko walks over you reveal it.<br/>
<br/>
“Heads!” she laughs.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m going to sit down in one of the chairs before we use this.  You dropped like a stone when you tried the mask.  I’d rather not fall on the floor here.”<br/>
<br/>
“That  makes sense.  Tell me when you are ready,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
You make yourself comfortable in the chair.  It’s an old padded one of the kind that the teachers got to use.  You signal Umeko and the last thing you see is her leaning over you, band in hand.<br/>
<br/>
Then the lights go out.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a very weird sensation you have right now.  Almost like you’re in a theater watching a movie of your life in high speed.  It slows down a bit when it gets to your recent break up with Lisa.  Great, thanks to the book you’d almost forgotten about that, but now a churning tumble of resentments has been brought back to the fore.  The last thing you note is wondering if you’ll remember all of this when you wake up.  The world fades to back again<br/>
<br/>
You open an eye lazily.  What were you thinking about again?  It seems like it should be on the tip of your tongue but you can’t quite remember.<br/>
<br/>
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” says Umeko, extending a hand to help you up.  “Take a look.”<br/>
<br/>
She show you the metal band.  The runes you carved earlier have become a little marred, but the most noticeable difference is the faintly glowing letters that seem to hover just above the band.  “Will Prescott” they read.<br/>
<br/>
“All my thoughts and feelings, huh?” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s take a look then,” says Umeko and she carefully places the band against her forehead.<br/>
<br/>
Her eyes flutter a couple of times and she collapses to the floor.  You lift her over to the chair and within a minute she recovers.<br/>
<br/>
“Wow…” she says.  “That felt odd.”<br/>
<br/>
“Does it work?” you ask impatiently.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck yeah,” she says, smiling an un-Umeko-like smile for a second before recovering a more normal expression.  “I’m having a little difficulty here.  It’s like I can feel a sense of Will Prescott inside my head and its hard not to let it run out.  All your memories are like an open book.  Like the time you broke my Mom’s jug years ago and managed to pin the blame on Robert.”<br/>
<br/>
“The fuck?  No one knows about that”<br/>
<br/>
“And oh, you weren’t honest with me about my mask were you,” she says smiling.  A smile you’ve seen on the mirror sometimes in the morning.  “Hours?  That’s quite a lot of effort and, oh, some of it was quite inventive.  I should try that later.”<br/>
<br/>
You feel your cheeks turn a bright, bright shade of red.<br/>
<br/>
“And… Oh. My. God.  Will, we’re cousins.  I mean I know I’m not a blood relative or anything but that’s still kinda wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
You didn’t think it was possible to be any more embarrassed.  You were wrong.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, “ she says, recovering her composure.  “Maybe we went a bit too far there.  Some secrets man was not meant to know.”<br/>
<br/>
She mumbles the word of power and rips the band from her forehead.  You catch her as she stumbles.<br/>
<br/>
“Now what?” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
Umeko smiles a sad little smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Come on, let’s see what the new spell is,” she says.  “I brought my laptop so we could translate it”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
It’s pretty simple to translate the new spell, and it’s a surprisingly obvious one when you think about it.  It barely even counts as a spell at all.  You can combine both mask and band into one object to create what, to your mind must be, an almost perfect disguise:  The thoughts and form of another.  It’s a little bit difficult to do with what you brought here, but Umeko had the presence of mind to bring one of Uncle Scott’s toolboxes and within a couple of hours you have bonded the blank mask and band together.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think the blank mask will unlock the next page,” you say, trying it fruitlessly.  “We’ll have to capture someone’s image and memories first.  I don’t think bonding my mind to your mask would be a good idea.”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” agrees Umeko.  “I don’t think we should use that mask or band again at all.”<br/>
<br/>
“So what about the blank mask,” you ask again.  “Who should we absorb with that one?”<br/>
<br/>
“I still hadn’t thought about it that much.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was thinking I could maybe use it to get even at Lisa, you know.  That girl that dumped me.  I’d forgotten about the whole thing until tonight for some reason, but now I think about it that Geoff Mansfield asshole has been hanging around her like a bad smell.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure embarking on some revenge fantasy is super mature Will,” she says cautiously.  “What we should do is start working out what this Blackwell guy is about.  There must be someone you could use the mask to copy that would let you get close to him.”</span></div></div>


path: 112312
author_id: imaj
title: Umeko wants nothing to do with the book
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Umeko cocks her head slightly and stares at you.  Stares through you.<br/>
<br/>
“That’s…. just sick Will.” She says venomously.  “Stop it.  Take it off.  Whatever you do to end this, do it.”<br/>
<br/>
Carefully, you remove the mask, placing it on your desk.  Within seconds you are you again.  The anger passes from Umeko’s face and is replaced by a look of concern.<br/>
<br/>
“This thing is wrong Will,” she says softly.  “You have to see that, don’t you.  It… It stole my face.  Anyone could wear that thing and my own mother would not be able to tell the difference.”<br/>
<br/>
She pauses for a second.  You find yourself unable to look her in the eye, instead staring at the ground in shame<br/>
<br/>
“Evil,” she says firmly.  “That’s the only word for it, evil.  You’re my cousin and I care for you.  I don’t want to see you hurt by this.”<br/>
<br/>
Umeko walks to the door, pausing briefly to say one last thing before she leaves.<br/>
<br/>
“Get rid of it, I don’t care how, but get rid of it before I have to tell Aunt Martha and Uncle Harris”<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Well, that could have gone better, you think to yourself later.  Dinner was a total disaster.  Umeko spent most of the time glaring at you and your parents noticed the change in her disposition.  Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary had been polite afterwards, but left quickly.<br/>
<br/>
Enduring a twenty minute talk with your father about how important it is to get on with family was the icing on the cake.<br/>
<br/>
The only silver lining is that afterwards your parents were more than happy to let you retreat to your room alone.  That’s where you are now.  Sitting at your desk, staring at the wall and thinking over Umeko’s words.<br/>
<br/>
She’s right, you think.  The kind of power that the book has couldn’t ever be thought of as “good”.  You should get rid of it, sell it, maybe even to that Blackwell creep.  Everything can go back to the way it was before.<br/>
<br/>
Safe.<br/>
<br/>
And yet, a small part of you wants something more.  An escape from the tedious, dull routine of small town life.  The book is the gateway to something new and exciting.  Surely you can’t throw that away.<br/>
<br/>
Fuck her, you decide.  You can hide the book and materials in the basement of the old abandoned elementary school a couple of blocks away.  That way it looks like you’ve done as Umeko asked but can keep exploring the spells of the book.<br/>
Your gaze falls on the Umeko mask you abandoned earlier.<br/>
<br/>
That isn’t going to be much use to you now she knows you have it.  You reach for your translation notes from the first spell and begin anew.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
You moved the new mask, the book and materials to the abandoned elementary school basement in the dead of night.  With the rest of your family gone to bed, it was easy enough to pack everything away and sneak out.  The lock you had added was intact and the basement seemed exactly as you had left it months ago.  As a last precaution you hid everything behind a pile of old desks.<br/>
<br/>
With hindsight, this seems to have been a wise move.  It’s Monday morning.  You’ve just stepped outside your home and spotted the unfamiliar looking car parked outside your house.<br/>
<br/>
The man standing beside it is anything but unfamiliar.  Aubrey Blackwell, still wearing cheap clothes, smiles an insincere smile as he spots you.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning young Will,“ he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to school.  “I was in the vicinity and I thought I’d stop by and see if you had perchance decided to rethink my offer.”<br/>
<br/>
Perchance?  Fagot, you think.<br/>
<br/>
“I have on my very person at this moment one thousand dollars which I will give you in exchange for your book.  That’s quite the finder’s fee for you, no?”<br/>
<br/>
You walk on in silence for a moment before stopping and turning to face the collector.  It’s a tempting offer, and at least you would be able tell Umeko the truth.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123121
author_id: imaj
title: Sell the book to Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>One thousand dollars is a lot of cash, not something you can turn down lightly.  Besides, there’s something about the way Blackwell is smiling at you that suggests annoying him would be a very bad idea.<br/>
<br/>
“You got a deal Mr Blackwell,” you begin.<br/>
<br/>
“Call me Aubrey, I insist,” he interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, you got a deal Aubrey.  The book’s been nothing but trouble for me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Very good,” he says, his smile shifting up a gear.  “Perhaps we can make the exchange now?”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t keep it here Aubrey.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” he frowns.  “How very cautious of might I say young man.  Perhaps we can make the exchange later this evening.  You have your own transportation?”<br/>
<br/>
“I got my truck,” you say indicating where it’s parked in your drive.<br/>
<br/>
“Excellent,” he says, handing you a card with a flourish.  “My address.  Please call round at eight this evening.”<br/>
<br/>
He sketches a bow and returns to his car.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Naturally you spend a lot of the day distracted.  One thousand dollars is a lot of money and you waste a lot of time thinking about how you will spend it.  You catch a lot of flak in Geography for spending the entire period staring out the window doing nothing, simply thinking about buying a new laptop.<br/>
<br/>
You tramp to the old elementary school after the final bell rings.  The lock is intact and you easily find and remove the book.  There’s no point in holding onto the materials so you decide just leave them lying where they are.<br/>
<br/>
The mask of Umeko is another matter.  Maybe you could get some extra cash out of Blackwell for it, or maybe you could hide it in your room for a rainy day.  You haven’t quite decided yet.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s house, it turns out, is an extensive stone villa on the edge of Saratoga Falls. He answers the door with an insincere smile and leads you to one of the rooms upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many books together in one place in your life. Blackwell’s library is huge and every available wall surface is covered in bookcases that reach to the tall ceiling. The centre of room is taken up by a group of large, ornate desks. There is a large pile of books on one of the desks and a laptop computer.<br/>
<br/>
“My latest acquisitions from Europe,” says Blackwell, indicated the pile on the desk.  “Just as this book you have for me should be amongst them.”<br/>
<br/>
You pull the book from your satchel and hand it to him.  Blackwell counts out ten crisp hundred dollar bills for you.<br/>
<br/>
“You know Will,” he says, handing you the money.  “I’m still looking for an assistant to replace the one that so carelessly lost this book.  There is a young lady who I think might be ideal for the task but she does not seem to care for me.”<br/>
<br/>
In all honesty you feel you sympathize with her.<br/>
<br/>
“That said,” Blackwell continues.  “You have impressed me with your resourcefulness.  The position is yours should you want it, starting immediately.  I’ll even up the wage I was going to pay you to fifty dollars for the night.”<br/>
<br/>
You lick you lips in anticipation.  That’s a lot of cash for a couple of hours of work.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, I’ll do it for you Aubrey,” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell ushers you into a seat by the laptop. He leans over you, a little too close to comfort, and powers up the machine.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s all terribly simple really,” he explains, gesturing across the screen. “You fill in the boxes here, here and here. Oh that has to be filled out in both the language the book is in and the English translation.”<br/>
<br/>
He drones on for another couple of minutes, allowing you the time to make careful notes on a piece of paper.<br/>
<br/>
“And then the database will tell you where to place the book in the Library. I myself shall be retiring to my study for an hour. I shall pay you for your endeavours when I return”<br/>
<br/>
With that, he leaves you alone.<br/>
<br/>
You can’t help but take a nosy round the room.  All of the books are very old, many with no visible titles on them.  Picking a few at random you see that none of them are in English and many of them don’t even use a recognisable alphabet.  One book stands out though.  It’s lying open on one of the desks by itself, written in some kind of old German.  You manage to use the laptop to connect to the internet and translate the open page.<br/>
<br/>
The book tells the story of a 16th century witch trial in Saxony in which the accused witch replaced several people of the village she lived in with simulacra. She then killed the local nobles wife and was caught trying to sneak into his estate. Before she was burnt at the stake, the witch cursed the Inquisitors who stopped her just short of unlocking the secret of “the absolute power of eternal health and beauty”. As she burned, the simulacra “shed their false visage and became as the clay of the earth”.<br/>
<br/>
An icy chill runs across your back and you shudder involuntarily.  Suddenly you realise Blackwell is standing right behind you.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, well, well Will,” he smiles darkly.  “A fascinating piece you’re looking at there.  Of course, there were a great number of witch trials in 16th century Germany, but that little episode stands out doesn’t it.”<br/>
<br/>
He closes the book over.  As he does so you notice a fresh cut on his thumb.<br/>
<br/>
“So Will,” he asks.  “Just what did you find out about the book you just sold me?”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231211
author_id: imaj
title: Tell Blackwell Everything
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I know it’s magic” you blurt out, cursing yourself or doing so.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s eyebrows shoot up.  For a moment his controlled façade cracks.<br/>
<br/>
“There’s no such thing,” says Blackwell woodenly.  “Historical interest only of course.  None of the ‘spells’ would ever work.”<br/>
<br/>
“I made them work,” you say to yourself quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell looks at you evenly.<br/>
<br/>
“Let’s just say for a second that I believe you,” he begins.  “Just what do you think these so called spells do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…” you say, desperately realising that you don’t want to talk about this.  “Maybe I was imagining things.”<br/>
<br/>
“No, no Will,” he says, gripping your arm and holding it against the table with surprising strength.  “I <i>insist</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“The first spell created a mask,” you say through gritted teeth.  “You’d place it on someone’s face and they’d fall asleep for a few minutes.  The mask vanished and when it reappeared it had a sort of reflection of the person who you’d put it on.”<br/>
<br/>
“All very well, but you could learn as much simply from translating the book,” replies Blackwell, his grip tightening.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait,” you yell.  “There was a second spell!  You could only read it when you placed the mask you made back on the book.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell suddenly releases his grip.<br/>
<br/>
“Do go on Will,” he says, an undeniable undertone of menace in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
“The second spell sealed the mask, let you wear it.  When you put on a sealed mask you turned into a copy of the person who’s reflection was on the mask.  I know it sounds crazy, I swear it’s true.  I have proof.”<br/>
<br/>
“Proof,” asks Blackwell, his eyes narrowing.<br/>
<br/>
“In my bag, a mask I made.”<br/>
<br/>
“Take it out and put it on then dear boy,” growls Blackwell.  “And then we’ll see how this little charade plays out.”<br/>
<br/>
Hesitantly you reach inside your bag and pull out the mask of Umeko.  Blackwell peers closely at the mask, his expression unreadable.  Trembling, you lift the mask up to your face.  For the briefest second you feel the cool material of the mask against your skin.<br/>
<br/>
Then you pass out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes with a groan.  Blackwell appears to have moved you to another room while you were unconscious.  You’re sitting in a worn leather chair beside an open fire.  Blackwell sits opposite you in a similar chair.  There’s something disturbing about the way he’s looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
He’s smiling.<br/>
<br/>
Genuinely smiling – You’re so used to seeing an obviously fake smile on his face that actual warmth from him is disconcerting.<br/>
<br/>
“Welcome back Will,” he begins.  “I’m impressed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Impressed,” you mumble groggily.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, you have a rare talent for one so young.  So few people are able to work spells like the ones contained within the <i>Liber Personas</i>.  To do it at your age is something special.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks,” you murmur, not quite sure what’s going on.<br/>
<br/>
“And of course with your choice of subject.  Such a delectable young thing.  Does she have a name?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s my cousin, Umeko,” you reply, realising that you must still be wearing her mask.  “She put it on by accident.”<br/>
<br/>
“How fortuitous.  Am I to assume that she remains unaware of the mask?”<br/>
<br/>
“I kind of told her about it, but she asked me to get rid of it.  She said it was evil.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sad to think that one so lovely could be so narrow minded,” frowns Blackwell.  “No matter, a problem to be resolved at a latter date no doubt.”<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself wondering what he means by that.<br/>
<br/>
“Now I must admit,” he continues.  “I toyed briefly with killing you, but I now see that would be a tremendous waste of resources.”<br/>
<br/>
You almost choke.<br/>
<br/>
“I did say toy with, didn’t I young man?  That’s not something I want to be forced to do now.  I believed I mentioned that I had fired my previous assistant.  Quite literally as it happens.”<br/>
<br/>
He pauses to stare at the fire meaningfully for a few seconds.<br/>
<br/>
“He was not possessed of half the native talent that you are, which is why I find myself making this offer to you:  Become my apprentice.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell stops to smile at you again.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312111
author_id: imaj
title: The Sorcerer's Apprentice
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“It’s an offer I can’t refuse,” you say weakly.<br/>
<br/>
“Very observant Will, you see: You’re learning things already.  Of course, it wont all be about the threat of imminent fiery death.  You’ll be sharing some of the benefits of the <i>Liber Personas</i> with me, as well as uncovering its further secrets.  And there will o course be the inevitable battles with the forces of good.”<br/>
<br/>
“What,” you yelp.<br/>
<br/>
“That was a joke Will.  There are no forces of good, nor any forces of evil.  Just men.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are we good?  Or evil?”<br/>
<br/>
“Such meaningless terms,” says Blackwell, waving his hand dismissively.  “We are strong Will, strong of mind, firm of purpose.  The book is just one route for us to take what we want.  Those that can not stop us are simply undeserving.”<br/>
<br/>
“That sounds pretty evil to me,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment Blackwell frowns.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you ever been bullied Will, had something stolen from you or been hurt by someone stronger than you.”<br/>
<br/>
“I stand up for myself,” you lie.  “Although there’s the Molester, and Javits and the rest of the basketball team.”<br/>
<br/>
“The Molester?”<br/>
<br/>
“Lester Brown,” you explain.  “He’s on the soccer team.  He’s called Lester the Molester because he goes round, er, molesting people.  Not me though.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell barks a short sharp laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“Lester the Molester, how amusing.  Good to see that the fine high school traditions of this country are being kept up.  But I digress:  What if you were stronger than this Molester?  Wouldn’t you want to revenge yourself upon him?”<br/>
<br/>
“I suppose so,” you half-heartedly agree.  “Not that I would have to.  I stand up for myself.”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly,” nods Blackwell.  “And the <i>Liber Personas</i> will make me, us, very strong indeed.”<br/>
<br/>
“So what you’re basically saying,” you say holding a finger in the air ”is ‘The Force Shall Set Me Free’.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not really sure what you’re talking about Will,” says Blackwell, looking puzzled.  “Regardless, come with me.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell ushers you into a small poky room on the top floor of his house.  There’s a strong, not quite unpleasant smell.  Cupboards and shelves line the walls with a large workbench area in the middle.  Occult symbols vie for space with power tools.<br/>
<br/>
A statuesque young woman is buffing at unpolished mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck, you have someone locked up in here,” you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
“Language my boy,” says Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
He walks up to the women, whispers something in her ear and rips her face off.  Another mask.  The woman instantly reverts to a featureless granite grey humanoid.  Weirdly, her clothes stay on the creature.<br/>
<br/>
“When I had the book in my possession before, I unlocked as far as the fifth spell.  This creature is a golem.  It’s not alive as you or I are and will follow any instructions I care to give it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, it’s not a slave because it’s not really alive?”<br/>
<br/>
“Exactly.  Although why would it be a problem,  I’m not sure.”<br/>
<br/>
“So I could put the mask of my cousin on it and it would do anything I say?”<br/>
<br/>
“Anything I say,” corrects Blackwell.  “My, my, do I detect a little incestuous crush there Will?”<br/>
<br/>
“She was adopted,” you say quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“Regardless, the mask you wear now would not work for a simple reason.”<br/>
<br/>
He tosses the mask to you.  Catching it you turn it over and look at the inside.  A small metal band has been attached above the brow on the interior.  Above it, like a holograph hover the words PENELOPE LUCILE VREDENBURG.<br/>
<br/>
“The third spell,” you ask.  “I translated it, but never got as far as casting it.  It was about knowing the mind of another.”<br/>
<br/>
“Precisely Will, without a mind to animate it, the golem is useless.  The fourth spell combines both mask and band to create a soul, if you would, for this inanimate clay.”<br/>
<br/>
“Could you wear the mask too?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes.  You would have both the form and thoughts of the young lady.  You would be a near perfect copy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait a minute,” you interrupt.  “I recognise this name.  There’s a Cindy Vredenburg at Westside.  This is her sister Lucy.  How did you get this mask?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, young Lucy,” sighs Blackwell.  “I am Professor of Archaeology at Keyserling College.  The young lady was failing one of my classes.  Being of a certain frame of mind, she took it upon herself to remedy this situation by offering me a favour.  Needless to say the favour I extracted was not the one she expected to offer.”<br/>
<br/>
You process this in your mind for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
“She wanted to fuck her way to an A so you made a mask of her?”<br/>
<br/>
“Language Will!  I wouldn’t have been so vulgar, but you have the most of it.  So now an echo of Lucy serves me though this golem.”<br/>
<br/>
“And the real Lucy?”<br/>
<br/>
“Alive and well,” replies Blackwell.  “For the moment at least.”<br/>
<br/>
Very ominous sounding you think.<br/>
<br/>
“Now, to business,” he continues.  “For the first few days of your apprenticeship I will require to keep a close eye on you.  That means having you at Keyserling with me.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure that I can just skip out on school for a week.”<br/>
<br/>
“Happily that will not be a problem <i>Lucy</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
It was an incredibly weird experience, watching the golem walk out of the room with your face and your clothes.  Weirder still standing butt naked in a room with another guy.  The weirdest is yet to come though.<br/>
<br/>
You raise the Lucy mask to your face, then slump to the floor unconscious.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment it feels like you are enveloped in a warm syrupy glow.  Then suddenly your mind explodes.  Intense sensations pull your mind in one direction, then another; pleasure, pain; joy, mournfulness; blistering warmth, freezing cold.  New memories flash through your head.  Old memories relived from a new perspective.  Then, just as suddenly, everything goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
You bounce to your feet athletically.  Everything seems strange – out of balance, out of proportion – and yet everything seems exactly as it should be.  You squeal with delight at the sheer energy flowing through you.<br/>
<br/>
Then you turn to Blackwell and you are overcome by a wave of second hand emotions: anger, revulsion, dread.<br/>
<br/>
“Easy Will,” he says, holding his hands up.  “The sense of Lucy that you have in your head can overcome you if you aren’t careful.  Concentrate on Lucy, ushering her through a door and locking it behind her.”<br/>
<br/>
You focus on closing the door inside your head, only you remain.<br/>
<br/>
“Good Will, very good.  Remember, you can keep her locked up until you need her.  When you meet her family and friends, open that door.  Let her feelings guide you.  They will never know that you are an imposter.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I got it.  What now?”<br/>
<br/>
“Now you put on her, your, clothes and go home to your new family.  Come see me at my office at nine tomorrow.  The mask knows where it is.”<br/>
<br/>
As you get dressed, you think over what Blackwell has told you.  At first glance his philosophy seems revolting.  Yet it’s also appealing.  People have been pushing you around for years for no other reason than that they can.  Isn’t it time for some revenge.  Blackwell can help you have that.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123121111
author_id: imaj
title: The First Lesson
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blackwell’s office at Keyserling is something of a surprise – spacious, well appointed and littered with archaeological titbits.  Books overflow every surface, some quite modern but many are much older.  A comfortable looking leather swing chair sits behind a solid oaken desk.<br/>
<br/>
It’s empty, Blackwell hasn’t arrived yet.  You’re amusing yourself by examining a tray of presumably important relics, idly playing with a strand of blond hair as you do so.  A very Lucy like way to behave.  The relics themselves are rather shapeless lumps of clay, each one meticulously labelled with a numbered tag.  <i>Booooring…</i><br/>
<br/>
You’re amazed how easy it was to slip into Lucy’s life.  Slipping into her personality is like slipping into a hot tub of water at the end of a long day.  And the things you got up to last night.  You blush slightly as you hug yourself remembering what happened.  And that was just <i>one</i> night.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning Lucy,” says Blackwell as he enters the office.  There’s just enough emphasis on the last word to convey it as a joke.  “How did you find things last night?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh you were right.  No one noticed the difference.  No one at all,” you say smiling.  “I was perfect.  Lucy Vredenburg down to the smallest detail.”<br/>
<br/>
“An interesting exercise then?  A glimpse of the power of the <i>Liber Personas</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“I certainly got a lot of exercise last night,” you smirk.  Blackwell smiles a little too knowingly for comfort.<br/>
<br/>
“Still, one mustn’t become too attached to a mask.  The persona can become… overwhelming… if not kept in check.  I’d hate to lose such a promising prospect in the mind of…  Well, to be honest, the mind of a harlot.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not going to happen.  I put her aside from time to time.  Then I look down and think ‘Man, I feel like a woman’.”<br/>
<br/>
“I see,” says Blackwell evenly, pulling out a small leather notebook and handing it to you.  “Regardless, your first lesson begins now.  Visit the locations listed here, follow the instructions.  If you see something interesting, make a note of it.”<br/>
<br/>
“You got any fences that need painting,” you ask as you look through the list of tasks.  They seem incredibly meaningless.  “Cars that need waxed?”<br/>
<br/>
“I really have no idea what you mean.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The statue of Cornelius Keyserling is your first task.  It’s a bronze statue of the philanthropist that founded the College in the 19th century.  Supposedly a memorial and mark of respect, it’s more often used by drunken frat boys to hang things from it.  Panties from the girls’ dorms usually, but on at least one occasion an unfortunate freshman.<br/>
<br/>
The instruction itself reads <i>Stand facing the statue from the west for five minutes</i>, which you decide is crazy when there is a perfectly good bench sitting there.  You lounge on the bench for a few minutes, taking in the morning sun as other students walk past.<br/>
<br/>
“He said to stand,” says a lone girl as she walks by with a couple of books under her arms.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait, what did you say,” you call after the girl, leaping up from your seat.<br/>
<br/>
You grab her by the arm and she spins round bewildered.  She’s quite gangly and awkward looking, with a pointed nose and too intense eyes.  Her drab hair swishes as she looks from side to side.<br/>
<br/>
“What do you want,” she asks nervously.<br/>
<br/>
“What did you just say there?”<br/>
<br/>
“I didn’t say anything.  Please let me go.”<br/>
<br/>
You release your grip and the girl scurries away.  The whole exchange unnerves you enough for you to complete the task again.  This time you stand as Blackwell’s instructions ask you to.<br/>
<br/>
After five minutes you know what the interesting thing you are looking for is.  A strange symbol shimmers into view directly in front of Cornelius’ face.  It’s…  It’s… Well you can’t really describe it as it seems to defy geometry. The symbol hovers hazily as you quickly sketch it onto the notebook before vanishing without a trace a moment later.<br/>
<br/>
Very weird.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is sitting in his office as you traipse back in late in the afternoon.  A cup and saucer sit on his desk<br/>
<br/>
“Back at last,” he says, taking a delicate sip from the cup.  “I trust you found what you were looking for.”<br/>
<br/>
“If you mean a load of freaky symbols,”  you say throwing the notebook onto his desk.  “Then yeah, I found something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm,” murmurs Blackwell as he leafs through the notebook.  “Yes, very good.  And the one at the East Gate, surprising…”<br/>
<br/>
“Was there a reason for this shit,” you explode.  “I’ve been tracking all over the stupid campus all day to see these things.  Now I’m tired and my head hurts because looking at them gives me a fucking migraine.”<br/>
<br/>
“Language Lucy - and for that matter: Persona,” Blackwell states calmly.  “It’s a test, of sorts.  One I’m pleased to announce you passed with flying colours.”<br/>
<br/>
“The fuck?”<br/>
<br/>
“Will!  You will desist in this vulgarity immediately.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right, right, sure.  I’m still waiting for an explanation.”<br/>
<br/>
“The sigils you saw today are a simple test of power, placed at the college quite some time ago.  That you saw as many as you did confirms that you have a natural affinity for magic.  Come now Lucy, you didn’t think I took this dead end job in the middle of nowhere for any other reason did you?”<br/>
<br/>
“What now then,” you ask, tired of Blackwell’s word games.<br/>
<br/>
“The next step of the test is to decipher the symbols, which we shall proceed with in my library.”  Black well stops for a moment to drink from his cup again.  “Unfortunately I have to attend a faculty meeting first.  Take my key and wait for me in the library.  Remember, it is absolutely crucial that you do not touch anything.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don’t touch anything, got it”<br/>
<br/>
“And Lucy,” says Blackwell standing up.  “Would you be so kind as to wash this for me before you leave.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell hands you the cup as he saunters nonchalantly out of the office.  He’s obviously somewhat old fashioned in his tea drinking as he’s used leaves.  A small swirl of them remain at the bottom of the cup.  As you look at them, they start to move, resolving themselves into another sigil.  It glows momentarily with a silvery light before fading.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly copy it into the notebook.  Perhaps Blackwell would like to know about it too?  Or perhaps you could research it yourself in his library while he’s at his meeting.</span></div></div>


path: 11231211111
author_id: imaj
title: Waiting for Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“So,” asks Blackwell.  “What do you know about the elements Will?”<br/>
<br/>
You’d been waiting in Blackwell’s library for four, maybe five, hours before he returned from his meeting.  The matter of the silvery sigil in the teacup had seemed quite important when you arrived, but there’s something about the library that makes you uncomfortable.  So you sat, and waited with only the dissonant ticking of the two grandfather clocks for company.<br/>
<br/>
Late as he was, at least he had the presence of mind to bring some food.  A couple of near empty pizza boxes sit on the library desks.  You look up from the last slice of the pepperoni you’re eating to answer his question.<br/>
<br/>
“Sure, I do chemistry in school.  Not that good at it.  Caleb knows more than me.”<br/>
<br/>
“I mean the classical elements Will.”<br/>
<br/>
You furrow your brow for a moment, thinking of some half forgotten film you caught on cable a few weeks back.<br/>
<br/>
“You mean like earth, air, fire and water?”<br/>
<br/>
“And the fifth,” asks Blackwell looking at you expectantly.<br/>
<br/>
“Er… Leeloo Dallas?”<br/>
<br/>
“What the devil are you talking about Will?  No…  Never mind.  It’s probably better that you don’t explain.  I meant spirit Will.  I expect it would be foolhardy to ask you about the humors?”<br/>
<br/>
“I like a joke as much as the next guy,” you say equivocally.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell stares at you for a moment with a fixed smile.<br/>
<br/>
“I see we have a lot to learn,” he eventually continues.  “So we shall start at the beginning, with sigils.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell stands up and begins to pace backwards and forwards by the desks.  One hand is held behind his back, the other he waves about as he talks.  Strangely, this maybe the happiest you’ve seen him.<br/>
<br/>
“What is magic, except the art of making things happen?  Take a look around you Will.  Do you know why your pizza tastes the way it does?  How it satisfies your hunger?  How your heart keeps pumping blood about your body or how your lungs breathe in the air around you?”<br/>
<br/>
You don’t answer.  It’s very clear Blackwell doesn’t want any interruption.<br/>
<br/>
“No, you do not!  Now the <i>scientist</i>,” Blackwell almost spits out the word.  “concerns himself with the how and in doing so traps himself in the mundane and mechanical.  It doesn’t matter that the heart pumps blood round your body, only that it does.”<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if you should be taking notes or something.  It would be a good idea if you had a pencil, or understood what Blackwell was talking about for that matter.<br/>
<br/>
“The magician concerns himself with three things only: What do I start with? What do I end with? And what changes one into the other?  Only <i>intent</i> matters…”<br/>
<br/>
“Wait a minute,” you interrupt.  “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?  I mean if you don’t know how something works and you use it you could make a complete mess of things.”<br/>
<br/>
“Heavens Will,” says Blackwell exasperatedly.  “Weren’t you listening?  You wouldn’t stop breathing because you don’t know how it works.  You simply rely that it does.  Look at this library:  It’s a collection of magic, of ways to make things happen.”<br/>
<br/>
“But how did the books get made in the first place?  Where did the knowledge come from?”<br/>
<br/>
“Again, you ask the how questions,” says Blackwell shaking his head.  “Try asking a what question”<br/>
<br/>
“Um…  What makes magic happen?”<br/>
<br/>
“Much better,” says Blackwell, genuinely smiling this time.  “Which brings us back to sigils.  Sigils are the language of expressing intent.  And it a language far more complicated than any you have ever known.”<br/>
<br/>
Your face falls as you recall your experience in French class at Westside High.<br/>
<br/>
“But it is late and midnight approaches.  We should repair to bed and continue this in the morning.  I have a guest room prepared.  You should contact Miss Vredenburg’s family and explain why you won’t be home tonight.  I’m sure her memories will provide a more than adequate excuse.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell is waiting in the library when you stumble sleepily out of bed in the morning.  Several musty looking books are piled up on the  desks.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning Will,” he says breezily, taking a sip from the teacup in his hand.  “Following on from our discussion last night I’ve looked out some of the, shall we say, safer books on sigils for you to read through.”<br/>
<br/>
“Rrrmbghf,” you mumble.  It’s too early in the morning to be paying attention.<br/>
<br/>
“Which means there should only be a small chance of trapping yourself in a nightmarish alternate dimension if you are carelessly inept in your duties today.”<br/>
<br/>
“Only a small chance,” you repeat, mostly on autopilot.  “Wait, <i>what?</i>”<br/>
<br/>
“So you are awake?  Good, you must learn the importance of being focused at all times Will.  Today’s task is a simple one.  You are to discover the meanings of the sigils you found around Keyserling yesterday.  And yes, that means Lucy shall be skipping her classes today.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell gathers up his coat and exits, leaving you alone in the library.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312111112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Lynching Party
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>A very hot sensation seems to be boiling up from the bottom of your brain pan. It makes you light-headed, and it lifts your whole body. You arch your back and throw your head back, and a cry escapes your wide-open mouth. Your grip on his massive, round shoulders weakens as you pull away, but your knees clench him tighter. He grunts ... there's a hanging moment of suspense ... and then he's cumming inside you, and you are welcoming it.<br/>
<br/>
You are definitely not gay. But if there's one thing Lucy Vredenburg has a talent for, it's orgasm, and the female orgasm, you've already decided, has to be even more addictive than crack.<br/>
<br/>
Still, you are definitely not gay, and the reason you are having unprotected sex in his truck with Jason Lynch is because you think it's a marvelous joke at his expense. If he only knew you were a guy! That you were one of the high school losers he liked to beat up! Of course, you can't tell him the truth, for lots of reasons. But still, you can laugh privately at him.<br/>
<br/>
Earlier that morning, instead of studying, you'd gone shopping, and at Bergham's Dry Goods—despite its dowdy name still the toniest department store in the city—you'd spotted Lynch. Skipping school, apparently, which isn't a real surprise; as star baseball pitcher he can get away with it. Still, it was odd to find him lurking in a place such Bergham's and looking eagerly through the men's section. But now that you think of it (and have Lucy's practiced eye to use in examining your memories), Lynch always has been a snappy dresser; not a clothes horse in the full A&amp;F or Hilfiger mold, but always turned out in a way that made his two fellow bully-athlete pals look like slobs. He always knows how to complement his sandy, all-American looks with just the right color and cut of rugby shirts and tight jeans and dress-casual shorts.<br/>
<br/>
He saw you looking at him thoughtfully, and though you turned away, your eye wandered back several times, usually just in time to catch his eye wandering back to you. So it wasn't a surprise when he finally came up and asked how were you doing. His brilliant blue eyes, which usually gleam with psychotically sadistic glee, had an icy, hungry light in them.<br/>
<br/>
You talked of this and that, about Cindy and Seth. You kept things cool, and he didn't push, but he managed to maneuver you into eating lunch at a nearby chain restaurant where you could have a salad and he could have a large burger. And then you'd walked further down the strip mall into one of the bath shops, where he impressed you with some astonishingly tasteful comments about the wares. (And you noticed that he smelled very nice: the spiciness of cleanliness and soap, rather than of cologne or musk.) Your manner became warmer, less because you were charmed by him than because you realized exactly where he wanted to end up, and the more you thought about it the more amused you became, and finally you asked him for a ride home and then suggested a detour out by the river, and now here you are in a post-coital embrace. There's been no foreplay, and now that you're done he doesn't seem much interested in afterplay either. <br/>
<br/>
Typical. He is a jerk, after all.<br/>
<br/>
"That was awesome," he says. "You were amazing."<br/>
<br/>
"You said cleverer things before we did it."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, not a lot to say about perfection, huh?" But his eyes are looking everywhere than at you, and he shifts in a way that suggests he'd like you off his lap.<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh you dismount and return to the passenger side, to pull on your panties and rearrange your skirts and blouse. You aren't the least bit disheveled from the waist up; Lynch had been all business, and hadn't even kissed you, before, during or after the business. "You can take me back to my car now," you say.<br/>
<br/>
He starts a little. "I thought you said you needed a ride."<br/>
<br/>
"And you gave me one. Now I need the other kind of ride, so I can go home."<br/>
<br/>
He sniggers. "Oh, I see. Good for me, huh?" He grins nastily. "You know, you didn't have time for me back when you were a senior."<br/>
<br/>
"You weren't worth wasting time on."<br/>
<br/>
"What about Gordon Black? Or Patterson?"<br/>
<br/>
You look over at him. "Is that what this is about," you ask him. "Bragging rights? Well, brag away, asshole. I don't care."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, this'll be our little secret," he says, but you can tell that he's lying. He's dying to call up the other two musketeers and brag about banging Lucy Vredenburg.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the drive back into town passes in silence.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wince to find Blackwell waiting for you back at the villa. "And did you have fun, Mr. Prescott," he says acidly.<br/>
<br/>
"Mostly, yeah," you say, tucking your hair back behind an ear. You're in no mood to be lectured.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you at least use protection?" You jerk in surprise. "I can always spot a post-coital glow in Miss Vredenburg," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, um ..." You weren't so much surprised that he could tell—you still feel a flush from your session with Lynch—but because it suddenly occurs to you that maybe ... "Are you saying I could get knocked up while I'm looking like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I'm not saying that," he says in a withering tone, "because no, you can't. You're perfectly safe from pregnancies and all the other business. But there are other ... dangers associated with that kind of extracurricular fun."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what?"<br/>
<br/>
He studies you. "Well, since you are obviously bored by the subject of sigils, let's make the study of <i>essentia</i> our first subject instead. Hmmm?"<br/>
<br/>
Ten minutes later you are back down in the library, disrobed of Lucy's form and wearing a lush cotton robe. Blackwell holds the mask, turning it so you can see its inner surface. "Do you notice anything different about the mask?"<br/>
<br/>
"No."<br/>
<br/>
"You must learn to carefully observe things," he says. "The mask, when I gave it to you, was a brilliant blue on both sides. Now the inside is much duller in color. That is a residue from your session this afternoon."<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't suck him off," you object.<br/>
<br/>
He rubs his eyes. "It doesn't matter which <i>orifice</i> his material entered. It still entered and it still left this stain."<br/>
<br/>
"Is it permanent? Can we clean it up?"<br/>
<br/>
"It will fade on its own," Blackwell says. "And fade quite quickly. We must move fast."<br/>
<br/>
He sets the mask down in the middle of a piece of paper that has an elaborate, circular design written in it. "You probably know that wizards have a reputation for <i>virginity</i>," he says, adopting a lecturing tone while running his fingertip around the edge of the sigil. "Indeed, a reputation for celibacy. The reason is that a warlock's <i>essentia vitalis</i> is a most dangerous substance to let loose."<br/>
<br/>
"His essentia whatsis?"<br/>
<br/>
"His <i>seed.</i> It is not the repository of his power, but it contains emanations from his <i>essentia.</i> That is the stuff that makes him into <i>him</i>, that makes you into <i>you</i> and not some other person."<br/>
<br/>
"Like DNA?"<br/>
<br/>
"DNA is a biological coding matrix. <i>Essentia</i> is <i>stuff,</i> but is neither matter nor spirit. It is higher than that. Your homework tonight," he says, shoving a thick tome at you, "is to read the first chapter of this book. It will explain everything, though you will certainly comprehend little of it. Now then, as for this <i>stuff</i> here ..."<br/>
<br/>
He lifts the mask, shows you that the original color has been restored, and that the sigil has altered, both in shape and intensity.<br/>
<br/>
"Your afternoon playmate's <i>essentia</i> has now been captured by this sigil, and we can study it and learn many interesting things about him. For instance—" He turns the page around, frowns at it, and then looks up at you wryly. "Did you know that he is gay?"<br/>
<br/>
"What?!"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yes, this shows that he has pronounced homosexual proclivities. Indeed, I'm rather surprised, given their intensity, that he evinced any interest in you at all." He grows puckish. "Of course, if anyone could turn a man straight, I suspect it would be Miss—"<br/>
<br/>
"Son of a bitch!" you interrupt. You chew your lip. "He really was just looking to score so he brag about it to Black and Patterson!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmph. Well, now you can see why a magician always guards his <i>essentia vitalis</i> so carefully. If it falls into the wrong hands, it can disclose many interesting things about him."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell goes on to regale you with many things about Lynch that you never would have suspected ...<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It is after midnight, and you are upstairs in your bedroom with the <i>De Essentia</i> volume. It is, as Blackwell had warned, heavy reading. But you are able to glean enough from it. You certainly don't want Blackwell getting ahold of any of <i>your</i> cum.<br/>
<br/>
You cock your head. You learned a lot—too much!—about Lynch this evening. You have a copy of the same sigil that Blackwell used. You wonder what you could learn about yourself. Assuming you didn't mess up and accidentally set the house on fire when you drip your seed onto it.</span></div></div>


path: 1123121112
author_id: seuzz
title: Secretly Work Against Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your balance feels off as you walk from Blackwell's house out to "your" SUV. But it feels off in a good way. You have to correct for the swinging motion of your globe-like breasts by rolling your shoulders lightly, and to compensate for that you have to rock along on your hips. All of these motions—though new—mesh perfectly together, and feel especially good balanced atop your strong calves. The walk to the car is too short for your taste.<br/>
<br/>
Fortunately, you've got a couple of stops to make along the way.<br/>
<br/>
The first is by the dorms. You relax into Lucy's thoughts and personality as you stroll along the hallway, coolly ignoring the openly admiring glances from ... well, from a lot of pretty unimpressive guys. You sense their jealousy when you knock firmly on a door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Lucy!" Ray exclaims when he opens it. He's a short, dumpy guy with curly black hair and glasses. "Come in?"<br/>
<br/>
"Love to!" His roommate looks up with puppy dog eyes as you enter. Gary is cuter than Ray in the same way that flu is cuter than smallpox. <br/>
<br/>
"I, uh, I have the work here," Ray says. He hands over a sheaf of papers covered in mathematical scrawls. He shuffles his feet uncomfortably. "Um ... I think this is the last time I should do this for you. You're not learning anything by me doing the homework."<br/>
<br/>
You give him your warm and lazy smile. "I'm not trying to learn anything, Ray. I'm not going to be a rocket scientist. I'm not building bridges. I'm going to be balancing my checkbook. Do I need to know calculus to do that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I guess not."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just a grade for a silly requirement."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. But how are you going to pass your exams? I can't come in and take them for you."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'll just have to have a long study session together, won't we?"<br/>
<br/>
He starts to reply, and then catches his breath. Gary looks up from the computer.<br/>
<br/>
You smile at both of them. "See you in class Wednesday?" you ask in a hopeful tone. Ray's head jerks rather than nods.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Ten minutes later, in another residential building:<br/>
<br/>
"His handwriting is just getting worse and worse," Rachel mutters as she gives the homework a critical look. <br/>
<br/>
"I know. Can you have it copied out by one tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think so. You're cutting it real close, but I'll have a clean copy for you before lunch. Oh, speaking of cutting it close—"<br/>
<br/>
"You got those notes together?" <br/>
<br/>
She hands a small notebook over. "Are you sure this is a fair trade? I mean, I've just been recopying work someone else has done. Term papers ..."<br/>
<br/>
You smile. "I have no head for math. History, though, I <i>love</i> history! Have you an A plus paper by Monday."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Forty-five minutes later, at a small off-campus apartment:<br/>
<br/>
"Oh God, I love it when you're having trouble with your dissertation," you moan as you roll off him. The sheets trail after you. You catch your breath. "You get so tense, and then ... Aiigghhh!"<br/>
<br/>
Aaron gasps and sniffs and fumbles for a cigarette. "Well, I'd say you were an inspiration, but you might take it the wrong way. Hey, wait, where are you going?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, I gotta get home. I wouldn't have stayed but you looked like you were going to explode and I thought, Oh God, yes, I've got to have some of that." You pull your dress down over yourself. "You mind doing that new term paper for me? It's not too much?"<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. Four pages on the First World War? Like recess compared to the constitutional structure of the Holy Roman Empire. I'll write it tomorrow while the ramen cooks."<br/>
<br/>
"Just be sure to say something bad about Hitler. Nobody liked Hitler. Except his wife and kids, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
He raises his head. "Are you sure you're taking Brown's Twentieth Century Europe class?"<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "Would I be asking you to write my term papers if I weren't? Thanks for the fuck. Give you another when I pick it next Friday."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Twenty minutes later, at the Vredenburg home, you are catching up on your messages and blasting Tweets hither and yon while giving yourself a careful manicure and pedicure. Tonight's academic work was exhausting—coaxing a performance out of a dead fish like Aaron isn't half as taxing as complimenting him about it afterward—and you want only to relax. When you're done, you pinch your toes and giggle and run yourself a hot bath. Tonight's session promises to be extra good. When you're warm and everything is supple and opened up you let go of Lucy's mind and begin to explore. You listen to her reflexes just enough to know where it will feel good to touch. The rest is a careful exploration of a body that you wanted to probe and map all during your sophomore year. By the end you're having to bite down hard on your own hand to keep from screaming out.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next morning: <br/>
<br/>
"Move it, you fucker," you yell, and lean on the horn. "I swear, ever since they shut down the drivers ed program the driving at this school have just gone to shit." You lean on the horn again. "He's not moving, you idiot, find another spot!"<br/>
<br/>
Cindy looks over at you. "Did you pick up the, uh ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Pick up the what? I'm not psychic. Oh, God! No, I didn't. Give them to you after school?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, Seth and I were going to ..."<br/>
<br/>
"If I give you your money back can you pick them up yourself? Or—" You exhale impatiently, both at Cindy and at the jackass in front of you. "Maybe Seth can start buying his own goddamn condoms?"<br/>
<br/>
Her face twists up. "I told you, if I don't bring them, he doesn't ..."<br/>
<br/>
"No, Cindy, you didn't tell me. He doesn't what? He doesn't wear them? Or he doesn't do it with you?"<br/>
<br/>
She turns away and looks out the window. The high school is already crowded and the bell will ring any time now. Between the buses and the drop offs and the teachers who are late showing up, it's hell getting through the front lot.<br/>
<br/>
"Listen, Cindy," you say, and your voice cuts like a hot, dry wind. "If this asshole can't take care of his own dick then he's not worth it. In fact, I've told you, you can do better than him. A hell of a lot better."<br/>
<br/>
"You sound like Mom."<br/>
<br/>
"If I sounded like Mom," you retort, "I'd be telling you you'll be starting at the Catholic high school on Monday. Jesus, I'm going to be late." You drum a knuckle against your teeth.<br/>
<br/>
"Just let me out here." She opens the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Cindy!" you call, and she pauses. "Dump the loser. You'll be happier in the long run." She slams the car door. Hard.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"And how was your first night as Lucy Vredenburg?"<br/>
<br/>
You chuckle and hug your bosom tightly. "You were right, they never knew the difference. I was perfect. These boys were perfect. Weren't you, my darlings." You lift them and kiss your breasts.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell arches his eyebrows. "I'm glad to see you didn't lose yourself inside her."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fun stepping in and out. I get to be bitchy and then when I'm tired of that I hide in the bathroom and ... Oh God."<br/>
<br/>
He smiles in a way that suggests he understands. "Still, it's not a good idea to spend too much time behind a mask. Either you get tired of the pretence, or it takes you over."<br/>
<br/>
"I just know I had fun last night."<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Good. But it doesn't bother you being inside a girl? I confess I had the strong impression that you were, uh ..." He seems to chew over the word. "That you were ... straight."<br/>
<br/>
"That's why I love playing with these things," you exult.<br/>
<br/>
He smiles again. "I see your point. Still—" He scratches his ear. "I'd like for you scope out the male students in class today, for an acquisition. I don't want you getting lost inside the female mind."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't I just take the mask on and off?"<br/>
<br/>
"And I could always use another assistant."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Sigh.</i> "Fine."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He's asking you to kill someone. That's all. "For the moment," he said when you asked about the real Lucy. He may be doing the actual killing, but he's asking you to pick the victim. You cross your legs and cross your arms and try to draw up inside yourself. Your stomach is turning over. You hid your loathing behind a mask of impatience with the idea of choosing a male identity, but there won't be any fudging of this issue. And it has to be from his class because he still wants to keep an eye on you.<br/>
<br/>
Well, it's for the good, in the long run. You'll win his confidence and then take him down. That's what you keep telling yourself. You wish you could convince yourself. <br/>
<br/>
Maybe if you chose someone who isn't here. You look around. But you don't know the class well enough to spot someone who is missing. You would have to improvise and delay ...<br/>
<br/>
There's a jostling against your chair, and you turn around. A slovenly guy—ball cap, dirty sweatshirt, cotton shorts, flip flops—has his feet on the back of your chair. "Would you put your feet down?" you snap. He stares back insolently, then complies. <br/>
<br/>
If anyone deserved it, the thought ripples out of Lucy's mind, it's a jerk like him.</span></div></div>


path: 11231212
author_id: imaj
title: Feign Ignorance
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“I…” you swallow before regaining your composure.  “Not much.  I wasn’t able to get the any pages other than the first couple open.  It looked like there was some kind of trick to it, but each page was in Latin, and I mean:  What’s the point?  I do enough work at school without taking it up as a hobby too.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell frowns at you before pasting his insincere smile back across his face.<br/>
<br/>
“I see.  Well Will, haha, you’ve done an absolutely excellent job tonight,” says Blackwell as he hands you a bundle of used bills.  “Fifty dollars as we agreed on.  Of course, I could still use more help right now.  There’s still a lot of books needing catalogued.  Come back tomorrow night at the same time and I’ll up it to seventy five.<br/>
<br/>
In a tiny little part of your head, alarm bells are ringing like mad right now.  They are quickly silenced by the part that wants to buy a couple of new Xbox games.<br/>
<br/>
“You got a deal Aubrey,” you say offering you hand for him to shake.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“Lucky bastard,” says Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
You’re walking along the driveway into school the following morning.  Caleb is almost green with envy at your new found fortune.<br/>
<br/>
“I wish I knew a mad old man that was willing to give me piles of cash for an hour’s work,” he continues.<br/>
<br/>
“Watch where you’re going losers,” comes a voice from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn round to see one of the cheerleaders, Cindy Vredenburg, leaning out the passenger window of a sleek SUV.  You quickly move out the way and watch it drive past.  It stops by the main door then sketches a quick three point turn after Cindy jumps out.  The driver guns the engine before heading back up the driveway far to fast, leaving you and Caleb to jump out of the way a second time.<br/>
<br/>
“Was that her sister Lucy behind the wheel there,” you ask Caleb as you help him to his feet.  “Still a bitch I see.”<br/>
<br/>
“Still a hottie too,” replies Caleb.  “Hey, you remember her in her cheerleader get up?  Whoa man.”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb grins inanely for a few seconds, lost in some private fantasy.<br/>
<br/>
“I remember her kicking your ass the time you tried to talk to her,” you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
“Pah,” says Caleb looking crestfallen.  “I prefer the Lucy I keep in my head anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
You walk on in silence for a minute.<br/>
<br/>
“So,” says Caleb, changing the subject.  “You going up again tonight?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah,” you reply.  “My folks are overjoyed that I’ve got a job now.  You should here my Dad talk about it.  Think he wants to use it as an excuse to cut my allowance.  Tight fucker.”<br/>
<br/>
“You think he’s looking for anyone else?  I’m a little short of cash myself.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” you reply shiftily.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a lot of books in Blackwell’s house you think.  Maybe he would want another helper, but if the work gets done quicker then it means less money for you.<br/>
<br/>
“Where does he live anyway,” asks Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
“One of those big old houses out off Rowanwood Drive,” you answer.  “You know what?  I’ll ask him if he needs any extra hands when I go tonight.  I’ll let you know tomorrow.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank’s bud,” says Caleb, offering a brofist.<br/>
<br/>
“No problem,” you reply, meeting it.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
The rain is pelting down hard as you pull your truck into Blackwell’s drive.  An ominous storm blew across the town shortly after dinner and lightening occasionally illuminates the sky as you run from your truck to the front door.  You hammer on it frantically, your clothes sodden.<br/>
<br/>
After a minute a light goes on behind the door,  Blackwell opens the door and ushers you in.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh my Will,” he exclaims.  “You’re soaking wet.  Come upstairs, I’ve got a spare bathrobe you can wear and I can put your clothes over a heater.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll be fine Aubrey,” you say, slightly creeped out by his offer.<br/>
<br/>
“I must insist Will,” he replies.  “If you catch a cold as a result of sitting in wet clothes, your parents will be upset.  I must admit an ulterior motive though.  I cant abide the thought of you dripping over my books.<br/>
<br/>
Grudgingly you agree and ten minutes later you find yourself sitting in Blackwell’s library in a thick white bathrobe with a cup of steaming hot cocoa beside you.  It’s time consuming work, but you manage to add a couple of books to his database and file them away in the correct shelf.<br/>
<br/>
You’re in the process of adding a third book when you hear a creak from the door to Blackwell’s study.  You look across and see the door is lying ajar, the light within off.  You quickly turn back to the computer screen<br/>
<br/>
The last thing you see is a shiny metal object being brought up to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You groan as your eyes flicker open.  For a second you wonder if you have gone blind, then you realise that you’re simply in a dark room.  The flickering of lightening briefly illuminates your surroundings from a set of narrow windows set high in the walls.  A basement?<br/>
<br/>
You struggle momentarily but it seems that your hands have been bound behind your back to the wall.  Your legs are tethered at the ankles.<br/>
<br/>
“Blackwell,” you shout.  “Blackwell!  Where the fuck are you?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s no good,” you here a quiet feminine voice say in the darkness.  “He doesn’t care.”<br/>
<br/>
With your eyes adjusting to the darkness you can just about make a dishevelled young woman tied to the opposite wall.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122
author_id: imaj
title: Tell him to get lost
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You’re not going to sell that weasel the book.<br/>
<br/>
“Listen Mr Blackwell…”<br/>
<br/>
“Aubrey, I insist,” he intereupts.<br/>
<br/>
“Listen ‘Aubrey’,” you continue, your voice dripping sarcasm.  “I wouldn’t sell you that book for ten million dollars.  I want you fuck off and stay the hell away from me.”<br/>
<br/>
A dark expression fleets across Aubrey’s face, his hands tense into fists. For a moment you think he might attack you in a mindless rage.  Then, as quickly as it disappeared, the insincere smile is back in place.  Even turned up a gear from the look of it.<br/>
<br/>
You resume your slow pace towards school.  Aubrey remains where he stood, talking to your receding back.<br/>
<br/>
“Well think about it young Will.  One thousand dollars is a lot of money, and this is a one time offer.  I would hate for you to regret dismissing it out of hand.  One never knows what the coming days will bring.  Perhaps you or your family might need that cash.”<br/>
<br/>
He sketches a bow before returning towards his car.  Did he just threaten your family?<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Between the  conversation and your thoughts about the book, you spend most of the school day  distracted.  You catch a lot of flak in Geography for spending the entire period staring out the window doing nothing, simply turning Aubrey’s words over and over in your mind.<br/>
<br/>
Finally the last bell comes round and you tramp home for your dinner.  For the second time today you spot an unfamiliar car parked outside your house.  Well not exactly unfamiliar, you recognise a police car when you see one, you just wonder why its parked outside your house.<br/>
<br/>
Naturally concerned you run in the open door and into the Hall to find it has been trashed.  Flowers from the vase your mother kept in the hall are strewn across the floor, along side the fragments of the vase itself.  The drawer from the hall table has been upended.  Jackets from the cupboard under the hall are everywhere.  As you move through the house it becomes clear the rest of the house has faired no better.<br/>
<br/>
“So let me go over this one more time,” you hear a steady, male voice say from the kitchen.  “You went out to pick up groceries at 2:00pm,  when you returned at 3:30pm you found the door ajar and the house in this state.”<br/>
<br/>
The voice continues in its matter of fact tone as you pick your way through the debris to its source.  In the kitchen you find a young, clean officer from the Saratoga Falls Police Department making notes in a small book as he talks with your mother.  Your mother has clearly been crying, and she looks round as you enter the room.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh Will,” she says unevenly.  “We’ve been robbed.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well Ma’am,” says the officer.  “That’s what we’re going over just now.  From what you’ve told me, you haven’t found anything missing yet.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s right.  Every room has been turned over, but nothing seems to be missing.  All the electrical good, all my jewellery, the credit cards.  Everything is still here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Do you think, perhaps,” asks the officer “That the thief may have been looking for something specific?”<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach turns a somersault.<br/>
<br/>
“Harris, my husband.  He works for Salopak.  Maybe the thief was looking for something from there, but Harris never brings any work home with him.  It’s simply not allowed.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about you young man, do you mind if I call you Will by the way?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod your head weakly.<br/>
<br/>
“Well Will, can you think of anything specific that the thief might have been looking for?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you say quietly, hoping like hell that the police officer doesn’t spot the lie.  “Mom, will I go round to Caleb’s?  We had a project to work on at school and it will keep me out of the way for a few hours.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, yes… That will be alright wont it officer?” she asks, turning to the police officer.  “You don’t need to ask my son anything more, do you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” smiles the officer.  “You go along now Will.  Remember, if you can think of anything, tell your mother for me.  I’ll be passing along my contact details to her so she can let me know.”<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Your heart is pounding as you run to the old elementary school.  Lying to your mother is one thing, Lying to the police is a whole new ball game.  Of course it must have been Blackwell.  He threatened your family and then the same day your house is burgled.  That’s not a coincidence.<br/>
<br/>
You approach the door the basement with trepidation and breath a sigh of relief when you find the new lock intact.  A quick inspection finds everything where you left it.  Taking the mask you made the previous evening and a chamois cloth you begin the daunting task of polishing another mask.<br/>
<br/>
*****<br/>
<br/>
Oddly you find the mind numbing tedium of polishing the mask strangely therapeutic over the course of the next few days.  The atmosphere in your house is tense after the burglary and you hear at least one blazing row between your mother and father.  Polishing the mask every evening lets you zone out for several hours and slip away from your troubles.<br/>
<br/>
Events pass by.  Umeko and Aunt Mary visit on Wednesday afternoon.  Umeko actually gives you a hug when she discovers the book and mask gone from your room.  Your father’s black mood deepens on Thursday when he returns from work to announce that the project he has been working on has been cancelled.<br/>
<br/>
You even find the time to make a couple of the memory strips detailed in the third spell.  The first you test on yourself when you discover that the fourth spell will not unlock until a used memory strip is placed across the book’s pages.<br/>
<br/>
The fourth spell, well that is an interesting thing.  You discover that by combining a mask and memory band, you can make a mask that absorbs both the image and memories of a person.<br/>
<br/>
And that’s what you have now, carefully wrapped and hidden at the bottom of your school satchel, as you set out on Friday morning.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222
author_id: imaj
title: Skip school and find some way to get at Blackwell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You have to do something about Blackwell.  He’s come after your family and you have to stop him.  You are sure he’s behind the burglary.  What if he’s behind the cancellation of your father’s project at work too?  What will he do next?<br/>
<br/>
You can’t afford to wait and find out.<br/>
<br/>
Looking around school for someone to copy isn’t going to help you so you decide to skip it.  The problem is, you don’t have a clue where to start.<br/>
<br/>
So you go right back to where you first met the creep:  Arnholm’s Used Books.  Ted Arnholm is behind the counter when you arrive.  He looks up from his well thumbed copy of <i>Who Goes There</i> and grimaces.<br/>
<br/>
“You,” he grumbles.  “Again.  What did I do to deserve this?”<br/>
<br/>
You decide the question is probably rhetorical.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi Mr Arnholm.  I don’t think that attitude is going to sell many books.”<br/>
<br/>
“You don’t understand the second hand book trade, do you son?”<br/>
<br/>
“I guess that’s why you’re the one behind the counter sir,” you say, more than a touch mockingly.  Ignoring Arnholm’s disgruntled harrumph you continue.  “But since you remember me, I guess you remember my last visit.  I was looking to track down that Blackwell guy.”<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm’s eyes narrow<br/>
<br/>
“I should tell you the same thing I told him, no private details of customers, but he did promise me a finder’s fee if you sold him the book.”<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm puts his book down on the table and sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“If I give you the card he left me, will you promise that you will never come back in my shop again?”<br/>
<br/>
“You treat all your customers this way Mr Arholm?  I bet you get good retention rates,” you say, ignoring the icy stare he gives you.  “Right, right, I promise ok.”<br/>
<br/>
Arnholm reaches under the counter and pulls out a business card.<br/>
<br/>
“Take it,” he says, offering the card.  “And go.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You weren’t even aware that Keyserling School of Mining &amp; Technology even had a Professor of Archaeology, but apparently it turns out that it’s an old holdover from the days when finding an Indian burial mound or some other shit was actually an impediment for a mining company.  This dashes your Indiana Jonesesque fantasies of the military, which is strongly associated with Keyserling, chasing round the world for paranormal artefacts of power.<br/>
<br/>
You manage to track down Blackwell to where he’s giving a lecture.  He’s actually showing a number of slides on a projector, so it’s easy to sneak in the back door unnoticed and sit in the back row.<br/>
<br/>
You aren’t keen on listening to the creep drone on about the Mesopotamians, whoever the fuck they were, so you start looking around the hall for anything interesting.  There’s a student sitting in the row in front of you a few seats of to the left by herself.  Pretty hard to tell what she looks like in this light.  Most of the rest of the class seem to be down towards the front.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a perfect opportunity of course, so you quietly remove the new mask from your bag, sneak behind her and slip it onto her face from behind.  No one notices as she slumps in her seat.  No one notices as you quietly hurdle over the seats into her row.  You wait for the mask to re-emerge, then just as quietly you hop back over to the back row.<br/>
<br/>
Just in time, it seems, as the lights come back up.  You hit the floor to avoid being seen.  You’ll just have to lie here till the hall empties.<br/>
<br/>
“Finally,” says Blackwell, his voice resonating clearly around the hall. “I am still looking for a new research assistant to help me catalogue my extensive collection.  Anyone who cares to supplement their income with a modest stipend should come by my office after four this afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
And with that all the students file out.  Almost all of them.  One young woman has walked down to where Blackwell stands at the lectern.  She waits until everybody else has left before speaking to him.<br/>
<br/>
“Lock the doors,” she says matter of factly.  “Then come back down here.”<br/>
<br/>
You press yourself as flatly as you can to the floor and the row in front as Blackwell walks past to lock the rear doors.  As he moves to repeat the process at the front doors you crawl along the floor to the edge of the row to get a better look.<br/>
<br/>
The young woman looks familiar but you can’t quite place her.  She takes what looks like a mask out of her bag and starts to turn it over in her hands.  Even at this distance you recognise the tell tale matte surface on the inside that signifies the mask has been sealed.<br/>
<br/>
“Only one blank left,” she murmurs.  “And that has to be saved for that fool of a boy.  This had better work.”<br/>
<br/>
You realise she is talking to herself because, although Blackwell is standing next to her, he is vacant and unresponsive.  You watch, mouth open as she slips off her sweater and starts to unbutton her blouse.<br/>
<br/>
Lucy Vredenburg!  You’d recognise those boobs anywhere.  Former head cheerleader, older sister to Cindy and one time target of you fifteen year old jerk-off fantasies.<br/>
<br/>
“Clothes off,” Lucy orders Blackwell.  You’re surprised to see him comply.<br/>
<br/>
And then, once they are both naked, just when you thought things couldn’t become any weirder, Lucy mumbles a word under her breath and rips of Blackwell’s face.  It’s another mask, and underneath it…<br/>
<br/>
You’re not sure what the hell is underneath it.  You’ve seen little wooden dolls used in art class.  Featureless things that can be posed to let people get the proportions right when drawing.  The thing is like that, except that it is made of a dull granite like material.  It stands perfectly still, like a statue.<br/>
<br/>
You almost don’t notice as Lucy removes her mask to reveal Blackwell underneath.  He takes a moment to recover his composure then carefully places the mask he just removed from himself onto the thing.  The effect is almost instantaneous, grey rock softens to pink flesh and another Lucy stands naked in the hall, clearly scowling at Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
“Put your clothes back on,” he says, picking up the mask he removed from Lucy’s bag.  “Follow your life as you would normally till the weekend.  After that point you are to attempt to bring this girl to me when an opportunity presents itself.  You are to tell no-one about me.  Do you understand?”<br/>
<br/>
Lucy nods sullenly<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You managed to escape from the hall shortly after Blackwell and the fake Lucy left.  You’ve been trying to work out what it was you saw since then.  Blackwell must have used the book before his previous assistant accidently sold it.  He must have some masks, but can’t make any more.<br/>
<br/>
That’s a chilling thought because you realise he could be anyone.  Worse, you think, he’s keeping a mask spare so he can make a copy of your memories.  He wont need to find the book, your memories will tell him where it is.<br/>
<br/>
The statue thing, you guess must be a spell later on in the book.  You could see if the new mask you’ve created unlocks that spell.  Alternately you could apply some sealant and use the new mask to apply for the job as Blackwell’s assistant.  Either way, you’ll need to head back to the elementary school.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222
author_id: imaj
title: Try to become Blackwell's assistant
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You need to get close to Blackwell and figure what he’s up to, so you rush back to the elementary school and mix up some sealant to apply to the new mask.  By noon you’re sitting in the basement in the body of Melody Weiss.<br/>
<br/>
Melody’s body, and it is Melody - never Mel, is something of a disappointment.  She’s about you height but is very gangly and a bit flat chested.  Her hair is dull and drab, her nose a little too pointed, her eyes a little too intense.  From her memories you find that she is from out of state and staying in one of the dorms on campus at Keyserling.  Apparently she came here to escape being ostracised by her peers back home.  Instead she found a new set of peers to be ostracised by.  Melody does have one redeeming feature though, she is ferociously intelligent and right now, you are using her brain to plan your next moves.<br/>
<br/>
The real Melody, you realise, hates Blackwell just as much as you.  She’d never apply to be his assistant.  However, with her excellent scores in his class, she’s almost certainly exactly the student he wants working for him.  You have about three hours to pick up a new wardrobe for ‘Melody’ before you need to get to Blackwell’s office.  With your savings already raided to buy the materials to make the first couple of masks that only leaves the option of using one of the thrift stores in town.  Luckily that’s not going to be a problem as her memories tell you this is exactly the sort of place Melody shops anyway to stretch her meagre scholarship as far as it can go.<br/>
<div align="center"><br/>
*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You find yourself, or rather Melody’s self, outside of Blackwell’s office wearing some low heels, faded jeans and a tatty green sweater.  It’s a pretty ugly get up but it cost less than twenty dollars and is pretty much the sort of thing she wears normally anyway.<br/>
<br/>
You relax for a second and slip into character, knocking hesitantly on the door, just as Melody would.<br/>
<br/>
“Come!” booms Blackwell’s voice from inside.<br/>
<br/>
You open the door and shuffle inside, eyes fixed firmly on the floor with Melody-nervousness.  You sit on the chair opposite Blackwell, hands clasped firmly between your knees.  The trick here, you think, is to let Blackwell make the running in this conversation.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah Melody, my star student, indeed,” he begins.  “I was hoping you’d be interested in this position.  You have come about my little assistants job haven’t you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you say quietly, letting the Melody persona guide you.<br/>
<br/>
“Well I can’t think of anyone in the class better qualified than you.  I’d say its pretty much yours if you want it.  One night a week, lets say the Wednesday.  A hundred dollars for the night, in hand of course, haha.”<br/>
<br/>
“That would be good,” you reply evenly.<br/>
<br/>
“Simple work, simple.  Cataloguing my library, doing some odd translation work.  I’m in the process of trying to acquire a most exciting work right now,” he says, scribbling his address onto a piece of paper then handing it to you.  “Shall I see you on the Wednesday at say 8:00pm?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, I’m looking forward to it,” you lie.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
That went a lot easier than you had expected.  After that, it’s simple enough to head back to the elementary school, ditch the mask and clothes and be back home in time for dinner.  Your mother believes the story you make up about working late after school with Caleb.  Your father seems a little bit calmer about the situation at his work – Hank Wilson, his boss, didn’t show up today it seems.<br/>
<br/>
You’re able to slip out the house again after dinner and head back down to the elementary school basement.  You use the Melody mask to unlock the next page of the book, then slip it on to help you think about what to do next.<br/>
<br/>
Translating the spell as Melody is easy but it looks like there’s a new set of problems.  Firstly the spell requires 400 pounds of earth, from a graveyard no less.  That’s a tall order, but at least the earth will be free.  The second component is a variety of fuels which need to be burned.  You think that they will cost over two hundred dollars.  Melody’s memories suggest that she has enough money in her bank account to cover that, but you realise that taking it would leave her hard up for cash.<br/>
<br/>
Then there’s the problem of the fake Lucy Vredenburg to worry about.  You don’t know who Blackwell’s instructed her, it, to kidnap.  The most obvious guess would be Cindy Vredenburg.  If Blackwell impersonates Cindy, he’s only one step away from stealing your memories.  The safest option would simply be to lay low as someone else.  Unfortunately the only complete mask you have is for Melody.  It would be easy enough to become her, but what would you do with the real Melody, and what would your family do if you went missing?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221
author_id: imaj
title: Steal Melody's money: Cast the Next Spell
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Your mind drifts back to what Umeko said a few days ago:<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Evil.  That’s the only word for it, evil. You’re my cousin and I care for you. I don’t want to see you hurt by this.”</i><br/>
<br/>
You’re starting to wish you had listened to her.  When you are in a situation where the best option involves stealing all someone’s money, things have gone too far.  It’s too late to back out now though.  Either you stop Blackwell or he stops you.<br/>
<br/>
If this new spell works the way you think it will, and creates that statue creature that you can place masks on, then you’ll be able to use it as a decoy.  Blackwell will go after the decoy and you’ll be able to spot him and go after him instead before he realises his mistake.  You’re sure Melody wont mind losing a few hundred dollars if it means stopping Blackwell.  From her memories you’re sure she hates him as much as you do.<br/>
<br/>
That’s the plan anyway, it hurts your head thinking about it.  It seemed a lot simpler when you were Melody.<br/>
<br/>
You return home and go to bed early, explaining to your mother that you’ve had a busy week.  In fact, you set your alarm for 12:30am and sneak out the house with a wheelbarrow and shovel.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Luckily there is an old disused graveyard in Acheson not too far from your house.  It’s easy enough to bust the rusted lock on the wrought iron gate.  Five hours of back breaking labour later and you moved more than enough graveyard earth to the old elementary school.  You make it back to your house in the pre-dawn twilight, replacing the shovel and wheelbarrow before collapsing into you bed.  You awake just before lunch to the smell of your mother frying up some bacon.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Melody Weiss usually spends her Saturday afternoons in the campus library at Keyserling.  Consequently you feel pretty confident about pulling this ruse off.  You arrive at the Keyserling dorms dressed in your thrift store outfit from Friday, walk up to the custodian’s office and wait quietly for him to notice you.<br/>
<br/>
He’s an older man, maybe in his 50s with a greying beard and chunky glasses.  His name tag proclaims him to be Carl.  The custodian is engrossed in his newspaper so you cough a little polite cough to catch his attention.<br/>
<br/>
“Howdy there miss,” he drawls.  “Ah didna see ya there.  What can I do for you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hi,” you say nervously.  You’re finding it increasingly fun playing Melody’s personality and fooling people.  “I seem to have lost my keys and can’t get into my room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not a problem Miss.  If ah can see some ID…”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh drat,” you reply.  “I think I left it inside my room.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well that’s a mighty fine problem Miss, because I can’t be letting just anybody into these rooms.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please,” you say letting what would be a genuine tear if you were genuinely Melody in this situation well up in your eye.  “You must know I live here.  I pass by you every day.  My name’s Melody Weiss and I live in room 211 on the second floor.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, how about I take you up there, and if you can show me where your ID is inside we’ll get you a spare set of keys?”<br/>
<br/>
Of course, thanks to Melody’s memories you know that she keeps her driving license in the top drawer of her bedside cabinet.  You walk out the dorms half an hour later with her credit card and the spare set of keys to her room in your pocket.  After that, it’s easy to make a withdrawal from a nearby ATM and take the fuels back to the elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’ve assembled the spell components onto an abandoned desk in the old elementary school basement.  First a complicated sigil had to be drawn, then a mound of the graveyard earth.  A lock of your hair will bind the creation to you.  Finally you poured the oils and fuels onto the mound.  All that remains is to light it.<br/>
<br/>
You stand above the mound, a lit match in your trembling hand.<br/>
<br/>
You cast the match to the mound and for a brief moment a bright purple flare almost blinds you.  As your vision returns you see the fire has settled down to a dull, ghostly purple glow.  No heat comes from the mound and you pass your hand through the fires and feel nothing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
According to the translation you made with Melody’s assistance, the spell recovers several days to work.  Each time the fire burns out you must relight it.  Only when it fails to catch fire, is the spell complete.<br/>
<br/>
Life passes by.<br/>
<br/>
You visit the elementary school daily to keep track of the spells progress, relighting the mound when you need to.  School seems unchanged, but constantly watching the people around you for signs of Blackwell makes you tense.  That gets worse on Wednesday when you discover that Cindy Vredenburg isn’t in school because her sister died in a car accident the previous evening.  Which means Blackwell has succeeded in replacing her.<br/>
<br/>
By contrast, your home life settles down.  Your mother finally finishes cleaning up from the break in.  Your fathers project is still cancelled but the continued disappearance of his boss has stopped anything else from happening.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, when you go the old elementary school after dinner on Wednesday the flames go out for the last time.  One quick dust with the chamois cloth you used for the mask removes the loose surface dirt, revealing a shapeless grey mass of clay.<br/>
<br/>
All it needs now is a mask.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, you have a problem here, because you need the Melody mask for going to Blackwell’s house.<br/>
<br/>
There is an alternative.  You still have the Umeko mask and the unbound memory strip of your memories.  You could bind them together and use that on the clay. <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212
author_id: imaj
title: Combine the Umeko mask and your memory strip
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You’re beginning to regret this already.  It didn’t take long to bind the memory strip with your own thoughts and memories to the mask of Umeko, even taking five minutes to update the band with your memories of the last few days.  When you placed it on top of the clay, it rippled and sank into it.  Within seconds the mass of clay, which the book refers to as a golem, has started to glow and shrink into a more recognisably human form.<br/>
<br/>
“’Sup,” says the naked apparent Umeko as it stands up in front of you.  “Have I shrank or something?  Everything seems a little bit bigger, including me…”<br/>
<br/>
You stand staring at the golem, mouth wide open.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh right, I see,” says the golem.  “It’s stare at Will day.  Close my mouth at least before you start to drool.”<br/>
<br/>
The golem looks down and cups its breast with its dainty hands.<br/>
<br/>
“Hmmm, I’m liking the change of accommodation boss,” it squeals as it give one breast a gentle squeeze.  “Betcha wish you hand your hands on these puppies by the way.  Well, again, you know…”<br/>
<br/>
You finally manage to get your mouth working again.<br/>
<br/>
“Who are you,” you manage to stammer.<br/>
<br/>
“Er… You,” it replies caustically.  “Well on the inside, I mean that’s what counts right?  Beauty is only skin deep after all, although this is a really nice skin boss.”<br/>
<br/>
“Am I usually this annoying,” you ask.  “No never mind that, what do you mean ‘boss’?”<br/>
<br/>
“Isn’t it obvious from the translation? I’m your slave.  I have to do anything you say.  Anything,” it says leaning towards you and lifting its breasts.  “Sure you don’t want to cop a feel?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I was just expecting something more… more…”<br/>
<br/>
“What like some brainless zombie,” the golem retorts, holding its arm out and walking stiffly about like a bad horror film.  “What the fuck use would that be?  You want to use a golem to impersonate someone, you want to be exactly like them.”<br/>
<br/>
“You have a point,” you agree.<br/>
<br/>
“Well of course I have a fucking point.  We are always right after all.  So what is the plan then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hang on a minute, I find it a bit easier to explain when I have this on,” you say, brandishing the Melody mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Wow Will, I’m really proud of you,” the clone retorts.  “You’ve finally learned to look at what’s inside.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck off.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Things start to move a little more smoothly once it finally occurs to you to order the golem to stop wisecracking.  It looks a little resentful at this, and you kind of realise just how much this whole thing with the book has isolated you from your friends and family over the last couple of weeks.<br/>
<br/>
With the aid of the Melody mask you explain to the golem how you plan to use it to act as a decoy to catch out Blackwell.  This, of course means, two new masks and memory bands which you have just enough materials left to enchant.  You hit on the idea of getting the golem to polish the mask while you are away, which you are pretty sure came from Melody.<br/>
<br/>
As you set out for Blackwell’s house as Melody, the golem is already furiously buffing away at the first mask.  With a little luck you figure that both will be ready to use by the Friday.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Blackwell’s house, it turns out, is an extensive stone villa on the edge of Saratoga Falls.  He answers the door with an insincere smile and leads you to one of the rooms upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
You don’t think you’ve ever seen so many books together in one place in your life.  Blackwell’s library is huge and every available wall surface is covered in bookcases that reach to the tall ceiling.  The centre of room is taken up by a group of large, ornate desks.  There is a large pile of books on one of the desks and a laptop computer.<br/>
<br/>
“My latest acquisitions from Europe,”  says Blackwell, indicated the pile on the desk.  “Which I would like for you to catalogue onto my database here.  One must move with the times, after all.”<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell ushers you into a seat by the laptop.  He leans over you, a little too close to comfort, and powers up the machine.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s all terribly simple really,” he explains, gesturing across the screen.  “You fill in the boxes here, here and here.  Oh that has to be filled out in both the language the book is in and the English translation.”<br/>
<br/>
He drones on for another couple of minutes.  Fortunately Melody understands what he is saying, even if you wouldn’t unaided before finally finishing.<br/>
<br/>
“And then the database will tell you where to place the book in the Library.  I myself shall be retiring to my study for an hour.  I shall pay you for your endeavours when I return”<br/>
<br/>
With that, he leaves you alone.<br/>
<br/>
There’s a treasure trove of information here, but only some of it is going to be useful.  You don’t even know where to begin and you’ll have to do some work on the pile at the desk or Blackwell will notice.<br/>
<br/>
There’s one thing that does catch your attention.  An open book on one of the other desks and sidle over to take a look.  It’s in some kind of German, but with Melody’s memories you are able to make a rough guess to its meaning:  The page tells the story of a 16th century witch trial in Saxony in which the accused witch replaced several people of the village she lived in with simulacra.  She then killed the local nobles wife and was caught trying to sneak into his estate.  Before she was burnt at the stake, the witch cursed the Inquisitors who stopped her just short of unlocking the secret of “the absolute power of eternal health and beauty”.  As she burned, the simulacra “shed their false visage and became as the clay of the earth”.<br/>
<br/>
It might be about your book.  Some of it seems to fit, but “absolute power”?  That doesn’t sound good, and certainly not in the hands of someone like Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
An icy chill runs across your back and you shudder involuntarily.  For a moment you thought you saw the door to Blackwell’s study move slightly.  Better get to work before he comes back.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You return to the elementary school basement one hundred dollars richer but with a new set of troubles.  Worse, the golem has found an inventive new way of polishing the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi boss,”  it says, looking up as you enter.  “I heard this was how they made some expensive cigars, so I thought I’d give it a try.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just… Just use your hands, ok”<br/>
<br/>
You’re worried about leaving that thing overnight, let alone through the school day tomorrow.  Will you skip school to keep an eye on it and get some more work done tomorrow, or do you trust it to complete the job?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122
author_id: imaj
title: Trust the Golem, Go to School
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You get the shock of your life when Caleb sneaks up behind you and places his hands over your eyes at your locker on Thursday morning.<br/>
<br/>
“Guess who,” he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
“The fuck?” you almost shout.  “Don’t do that to me Caleb, seriously, don’t fucking do that.”<br/>
<br/>
“Whoa,” he says, removing his hand.  “Your time of the month Will?  C’mon man, I’ve hardly seen you at all over the last couple of weeks.”<br/>
<br/>
You look around the hall.  It’s full of your fellow high school students.  Logic says Blackwell should be pretending to be Cindy Vredenburg.  Logic can take a running jump: The creep could be anyone of them and you are taking no chances.<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Caleb, looking for the slightest hint of un-Caleb-like activity.  Pointless.  Blackwell’s mask will have a memory band too.<br/>
<br/>
“I wish I could say Caleb, I really do.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh?  Well whatever’s up, it’s got you jumping at your own shadow by the look of it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, listen,” you lean in and whisper to Caleb.  “You haven’t seen Cindy Vredenburg about have you?”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb takes a step back and folds his arms.  He looks at you quizzically.<br/>
<br/>
“You living under a rock or something?  Didn’t you hear what happened?  I don’t think we’ll see her all week.”<br/>
<br/>
You grimace.  At least feigning grief for Lucy might keep Blackwell out of the way for a couple of days.<br/>
<br/>
“So, usual place for lunch,” asks Caleb.  You usually take your lunch out on the bleachers by the sports field.<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you almost screech.<br/>
<br/>
You’ve figured it out.  You don’t want to be alone with anyone until in case they turn out to be Blackwell.  <br/>
<br/>
Caleb stands looking at you, his mouth agape.<br/>
<br/>
“Um… I mean, how about we meet Keith by the main entrance first?  Haven’t talked to either of you guys for a while.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Standing and waiting by the main entrance makes a lot of sense to you.  People are passing back and forth in droves right now and that means “safe”.  Your train of thoughts is disturbed by a discrete cough from behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You turn around to see your ex not quite girlfriend Lisa tucking a strand of dark wavy hair behind her ear.<br/>
<br/>
“Hi Will,” she says softly.<br/>
<br/>
“Urrghk,” you splutter.<br/>
<br/>
She giggles musically<br/>
<br/>
“This isn’t your usual spot,” she says.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just waiting for Caleb and Keith,” you say recovering your composure.  “Haven’t seen you and Mansfield around for a while.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah well,” she says biting her lip in that way you used to think was adorable.  “It didn’t really work out.  Anyway, be seeing you.”<br/>
<br/>
With that she gives a little wave and walks inside.<br/>
<br/>
“Was that Lisa,”  Keith asks as he walks up with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“All I’m saying,” says Keith, jabbing an accusatory finger at Caleb. “Is that Jessica is carrying a little more weight.  Eva is slightly leaner, and therefore the more desirable.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well yeah,” says Caleb.  “But with curves like those does it really make a difference?  Besides I prefer girls with longer hair.”<br/>
<br/>
“Why?”<br/>
<br/>
“Something to hold on to?”<br/>
<br/>
“Listen, Will,” says Keith.  “You settle this argument and tell this joker he’s wrong.”<br/>
<br/>
“Keith,” you reply.  “They are practically identical.”<br/>
<br/>
“But if you had to choose,” interrupts Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not going to get to choose,”  you say.  “None of us are going to get to choose. <i> Ever</i>.  There is our league.  Above that there is out of our league and <i>above</i> that again there is the Garners.”<br/>
<br/>
“Just pick one,” they say in near unison.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh,” you mumble.  “Both?”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb and Keith erupt into gales of laughter.<br/>
<br/>
“True that,” says Caleb after he calms down.<br/>
<br/>
You’re really enjoying this.  It’s nice to just relax for a while and chew the fat with your friends.  You hadn’t realised just how much your worries about the book had built up.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, you’re starting to think maybe you should take your friends into your confidence about this.  Umeko knocking you back earlier busted your confidence, but you are sure these two would be much more interested.</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221
author_id: imaj
title: Tell Keith and Caleb about the Book of Masks
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Ok,” you say to Caleb and Keith as you lead them to the elementary school basement door.  “It’s really important that when we go in, you do not freak out.  You can do that, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not freak out,” says Keith.  “Check.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m just saying,” you continue.  “Because what you’re about to see might be considered by some to be a bit freaky.”<br/>
<br/>
“OooEeeOoo,” moans Caleb in a spooky voice.  “You have now entered the Will Prescott zone.”<br/>
<br/>
You stare at Caleb silently for a second.<br/>
<br/>
“All right, all right,” he concedes.  “No freaking out.”<br/>
<br/>
You unlock the door and usher them in.  As you enter, the golem looks up from its work<br/>
<br/>
“Oh hi boss, and Caleb, and Keith,” it says.  “I got the first mask done.”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb and Keith stare goggle eyed at the golem for a couple of seconds.<br/>
<br/>
“Do I know that girl,” asks Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“Is that your cousin,” asks Caleb.  “I’m just asking because keeping her locked in a basement in some kind of freaky slave fetish ring was more freaky that I was expecting.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes and no Caleb,” you reply.  “Oh and this isn’t the freaky bit by the way.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not the freaky bit,” says Caleb as you walk up to the golem.  “Not sure I see that at all.”<br/>
<br/>
With a whispered word of power, you remove the Umeko / Will mask from the golem.  Instantaneously it reverts to a grey skinned featureless humanoid.  At this point Keith faints.<br/>
<br/>
“Ok,” says Caleb.  “I stand corrected.  This is way more freaky.  I think an explanation would be a good idea before I join Keith on the floor there.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a bit complicated,” you say, walking back towards Caleb with the mask in hand.  “It’d be much simpler to explain if I did this.”<br/>
<br/>
And with that you slam the mask onto his face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“So I figure he’s someone in the school, probably Cindy Vredenburg.  He’s just waiting to use the mask on me and find out the location of the book.”<br/>
<br/>
You’ve spent he last thirty minutes explaining to Caleb and Keith the details of the whole story that weren’t part of the memories contained on the mask.  Caleb is back to himself but Keith is still sitting wearing the Umeko mask.  The golem, now wearing the Melody mask is busy translating the next spell for you.<br/>
<br/>
“So what do you think guys,” you finish.<br/>
<br/>
“What do I think,” replies Keith, playing with his Umeko-breasts.  “I think: ‘Hehe, boobies’.”<br/>
<br/>
“Real helpful Keith,” says Caleb.  “This is total fuck up Will.  I think I preferred it when you were moody and uncommunicative.”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb sighs.<br/>
<br/>
“I think you are right though.  Clear up this mess and get rid of that creep.  Until we do that your going to be looking over your shoulder.  We’re going to be looking over our shoulders.  Hell, if this guy killed Lucy Vredenburg like you said, he wont stop at putting us out of the picture because we know to much.  Big vote of thanks for that.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re welcome,” you reply sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
“But hell, the potential of this thing once that’s sorted.  Amazing.  Remember that discussion we had at lunchtime Keith?”<br/>
<br/>
“What,” says Keith, momentarily distracted from his fondling session.  “Oh right, Garners, yeah.”<br/>
<br/>
“Imagine how much you’d be enjoying yourself from inside Eva.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith blushes brightly.<br/>
<br/>
“Now your plan, using that thing as decoy,” Caleb continues indicating the golem.  “Is basically sound, which surprises me because you are normally a total fuckwit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck you,” you snarl.  “I was wearing the mask of Melody.  She’s cleverer than you and that means I can be cleverer than you if I want too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe, but since I could wear her mask too, - not that I’d want to - I can be equally clever.  That’s not the point.  The point is that there are two things you haven’t thought about.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yeah?”<br/>
<br/>
“Firstly, pretending to be someone else so you can watch the golem and yourself.  Who?”<br/>
<br/>
“Hmm,” you muse.  “Well it has to be someone that can be close to both Cindy and me.  Another cheerleader maybe?”<br/>
<br/>
“Dream on,” says Caleb.  “The cheerleaders  are close to Cindy, but they never talk to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe Yumi Saito,” interrupts Keith.  “She’s a cheerleader but nicer than most.”<br/>
<br/>
“True,” replies Caleb.  “Though I am beginning t think you have a thing for the Asians Keith.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith blushes fire engine red.  On Umeko’s face it’s adorable.<br/>
<br/>
“Eva and Jessica Garner are in a lot of my classes too,” you add.<br/>
<br/>
“Also true,” says Caleb grinning.  “And I could think of quite a few uses for those masks once we were done.  Alternatively: Javits.  Very close to Cindy, and you could, I don’t know, bully yourself.”<br/>
<br/>
“What about Kim Walsh,” interrupts Keith.  “She’s got this whole ‘butts into everyone’s business because she’s class president’ thing going.  Plus I’m on the debating team with her and it’d be easy to get a mask.”<br/>
<br/>
“Actually that’s pretty good Keith,” continues Caleb.  “But none of this deals with the second and bigger problem which is what do you do with the real person while you are doing this…”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I can help,” says the golem quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“Because it’s not like you can tie them up down here while you live their life or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I can help,” says the golem again, a little louder.<br/>
<br/>
“Which would be kidnapping and… what?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I can help,” says the golem as it walks over and hands you the translation of the new spell.  You read it over as it continues.  “I think the new spell is a bit like the one that created me, except it needs less graveyard earth.  Instead it needs a person.”<br/>
<br/>
“A person,” splutters Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“I can’t tell what the spell does, but comparing it to the previous spell, I think it might immobilize the person its cast on.”<br/>
<br/>
“Are you sure,” asks Caleb.  “Because if it doesn’t do that, you’ve probably just made someone angry as hell.”<br/>
<br/>
“Probably better not be Javits then,” mumbles Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“I told you how clever Melody was, didn’t I,” you say.  “It’s a more accurate guess than we could make.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shit, what if it kills them or something though,” counters Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
“And I told you what I saw in Blackwell’s library,” you reply.  “The guy is bad news.  Like zombie apocalypse bad news.  We have to stop him from getting the book.”<br/>
<br/>
“So what you are saying,” interrupts Keith.  “Is that the end justifies the means.”<br/>
<br/>
“I think that is exactly what I’m saying,” you say.<br/>
<br/>
“I think you may be right,” says Caleb, smiling sadly.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You spin the polished mask in your hands as Keith locks up the basement door behind you.  You’ve left the golem to prepare the room for the casting of the new spell tomorrow.  There’s also another mask for it to work on to.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb turns to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Have you decided,” he asks bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” you reply.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211
author_id: imaj
title: Seth Javits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Have you decided,” Caleb asks bitterly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes:  Javits,” you respond.  “Kim doesn’t deserve this.”<br/>
<br/>
“But Javits deserves everything that’s coming to him,” interrupts Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“The problem is going to be luring him out here without getting our asses handed to us,” you continue.<br/>
<br/>
Keith grimaces.  He’s had more run-ins with Seth Javits than either you or Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
“Richards,” sighs Caleb quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“What?”<br/>
<br/>
“Jeremy Richards,” he continues.  “He’s in the basketball team too.  Use Richards to get to Javits.”<br/>
<br/>
“Forget it,” replies Keith.  “Richards talks to us like we’re something he’s scrapped of the sole of his sneakers.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s the point though,” says Caleb.  “He does still talk to us.  All you’ll get out of Javits is a ‘Fuck off’ before he starts beating the crap out of you.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’d use three masks,” you say.  “We’ll only have two ready by tomorrow afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s Friday tomorrow.  You can just phone your Mom and tell her you’re staying over with me.  That’ll give you enough time to have another mask ready.”<br/>
<br/>
“True,” you reply.  “You have something worked out then?”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s simple,” replies Caleb.  “All we need is to get Richards alone somewhere for five minutes.”<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You’re sitting on the bleachers at the school sports field during Friday lunch period with Keith.  Well, actually you’re sitting slightly behind him and to the right, watching him like a hawk.  Being alone with someone like this is something you’ve been trying to avoid since you’re still paranoid Blackwell could have replaced anyone in the school.<br/>
<br/>
“Why are you looking at me like that Will?”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not looking at you!”<br/>
<br/>
“Whoa! Easy,” say Keith<br/>
<br/>
“Sorry,” you apologise.  “I’m still a little jumpy about Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nothing man,” shrugs Keith.  “We’re pretty sure he’s Cindy though, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“All I know is that he had a mask of Cindy’s sister.  It would be easiest to make a mask of Cindy, but hell, he could be any of Cindy’s friends.  Her for example,” You say, indicating Gloria Rea, who’s walking along the bottom of the bleachers with Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
“Now you’re being paranoid,” replies Keith.  “Hell, if you’re going to take that route it could be anyone.  If Lucy Vredenburg stopped her car next to me, flashed her boobs and asked me to get in, do you honestly think I’d refuse?”<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe that’s why I’m watching you,” you say sarcastically.<br/>
<br/>
“I’d worry more about Caleb, remember that big crush he had on her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Him and half the school,” you say watching Gloria and Lisa pass by in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey,” says Keith.  “Did Lisa just wave at you?”<br/>
<br/>
“Shutup,” you say quickly, offering half hearted wave back.<br/>
<br/>
“She did!”<br/>
<br/>
“Shutup, shutup, shutup,” you hiss at Keith.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as Caleb leads Jeremy Richards past the two girls and up the steps to you.  Richards is, at six and a half feet tall, something of a giant.  There was a time when you were friends, but you drifted apart after he joined the basketball team.  You watch as he folds himself up onto the seat in front of you.<br/>
<br/>
“So what the fuck is it Prescott,” he snarls.<br/>
<br/>
“Good to see you too Jeremy,” you reply airily.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t have time to sit and chat with you idiots, but Johansson insists you have something special for me.  Unlike you he’s not full of shit, so I’ll give you five minutes.”<br/>
<br/>
“OK,” you drawl slowly, just for sheer devilment.  “We scored a copy of the big algebra test Kowalski’s going to spring on us all next week.  I figured you guys in the team would pay top dollar for a sneak preview.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me see that,” he says, snatching the paper from you.  “You fuckwit.  This is last years paper.  It says so right here.  I ought to deck you just for wasting my time.”<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, he doesn’t the chance to make good on his threats as at this point Caleb reaches round and places a mask on his face.  His head lolls to one side but his body remains upright, simply because it’s jammed into place on the seat.<br/>
<br/>
“Quick,” whispers Caleb.  “Get his phone.”<br/>
<br/>
You start rummaging around inside Richards’ rucksack.<br/>
<br/>
“God, this smells,” you say, fishing around a rumpled kit before pulling out a slim clamshell model.<br/>
<br/>
“He’s coming round,” says Caleb, taking the returning mask off Richards’ face before putting it in his own bag.  “Here, pass me that phone.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ugh,” groans Richards.  “What he fuck did you just do?”<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing,” says Keith quickly.  “You just kind of slumped.”<br/>
<br/>
Richards glares at the three of you, daring you to say something.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck you and fuck this shit.” He eventually says, stomping off.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“This is fucking amazing,” says Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“You sound just like him,” says Caleb.  “Maybe not, you’re missing that touch of overwhelming arrogance.”<br/>
<br/>
“Shut it loser,” snarls Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“Now you’ve got it spot on.”<br/>
<br/>
“Both of you shut up,” you interrupt.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck you Prescott.”<br/>
<br/>
“Concentrate Keith,” you say patiently.  “You’re not Jeremy Richards, you’re just wearing a mask and living his memories.”<br/>
<br/>
An uncharacteristically goofy grin appears on Richards face as he slouches a bit.<br/>
<br/>
“These things are great,” says Keith.  “I feel so energized and alive with this on.  And I have all his thoughts just sitting here, waiting to be dipped into.  Did you know he’s having a thing with Eva Garner.  We could use this mask to get close to her next week.”<br/>
<br/>
“Blackwell first, Garner on Garner action later,” you interrupt.  “Did you call Javits?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, he’s on his way over.”<br/>
<br/>
You’ve dipped into the cash you, as Melody, got from Blackwell on Wednesday to buy a cheap tracksuit for Keith to wear while he’s pretending to be Jeremy.  The rest of the cash went on buying new materials to make more masks.  You’ve already created two new ones and the golem is busy polishing one of them.  Finally, you’ve got the polished mask the golem finished creating this afternoon ready for Javits arrival.<br/>
<br/>
Keith reaches for his pocket and pulls out the phone you stole.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck,” he exclaims.  “That’s him.”<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb take your places at either side of the  door as Keith walks out to meet Javits.  After a few minutes you here them both coming down the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
“So yeah,” say Keith, getting right into the role by the sound of it.  “I figured we could use a place like this a drinking den or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“Could work,” replies Javits.  “Have to take a look inside first.  This place better not be a mess.”<br/>
<br/>
Seth Javits steps through the open door, a look of surprise on his face.  You look to see what he’s staring at, realising that while you and Caleb are well hidden, you forgot to tell the golem to hide.  It’s sitting in the middle of the room polishing away, cheerfully unconcerned.<br/>
<br/>
“What.  The.  Fuck,” he says.<br/>
<br/>
“Shit,” you exclaim.  “Fuck it.  Just go for it guys.”<br/>
<br/>
Javits makes an attempt to fend you off when you and Caleb  jump out from your hiding places.  Alone, he might have succeeded.  His expression of shock deepens when Keith grabs him from behind.  Between the three of you, you easily wrestle Javits to the ground and place the mask on his face.<br/>
<br/>
“Get a move on,” you hiss.  “Get his jacket off and put him on the table.  He’s only going to be out for a few minutes.”<br/>
<br/>
The three of you lift Javits heavy frame and place him on top of the mound of graveyard earth you had prepared earlier.  Caleb lifts the mask of his face as it reappears as you douse Javits in fuel.<br/>
<br/>
“This had better fucking work,” says Keith.  “Otherwise he’s going to be <i>really</i> pissed off.”<br/>
<br/>
You pull a matchbook from your pocket, strike one and toss it on Javits.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly everything goes white.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111
author_id: imaj
title: The Fate of Seth Javits
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Ughk,” goes Keith as he empties the contents of his stomach on the floor again.<br/>
<br/>
It’s been five minutes since the bright purple flare that erupted when you lit the fuel died down.<br/>
<br/>
“You killed him,” states Caleb flatly.<br/>
<br/>
“It didn’t kill him,” you reply. “Look, he’s still breathing.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t think you could you could describe hi as alive in any conventional sense Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Nnnrrugh,” concurs Keith, he’s dry retching now.<br/>
<br/>
Javits’ skin has turned the same granite grey as the golem’s. He feels cold and damp to the touch. While he is still breathing, his eyes are closed and he shows no other sign of life.<br/>
<br/>
“Is… Is he a golem now,” whispers Keith, his stomach empty, nothing left to vomit up.<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” you reply. “Give me back his mask and lets try it on him.”<br/>
<br/>
“On it Will,” says Caleb. “On it.”<br/>
<br/>
As you place the mask onto Javits, colour returns to his body.  Its eyes flick open and it jumps to its feet.<br/>
<br/>
“What the fucks going on Richards,” it yells at Keith.  “What are these two jerks doing here?”<br/>
<br/>
Javits fists tense up.  It looks like it’s ready to jump on you and starting pounding.<br/>
<br/>
“Stop,” you say, hoping that it’s like the other golem.<br/>
<br/>
Javits suddenly stops, swaying slightly from side to side.<br/>
<br/>
“He has to do what you say,” asks Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s a golem,” says the original golem from the other side of the room.  “Golems must follow their master’s orders.”<br/>
<br/>
“So we have a Seth Javits slave then,” continues Keith.  “I cant think of a more deserving person.”<br/>
<br/>
“You have an anyone slave,” replies the original golem.  “Or Will does.  I’d imagine you can put any mask on it.”<br/>
<br/>
“He deserves it,” retorts Caleb.  “Are you serious?”<br/>
<br/>
“Doesn’t he,” you interrupt.  “He’s made Keith’s life miserable for years.  Now it stops.  Now for the first time in his life he’s going to help people.  This is going to help us stop Blackwell.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don’t know,” says Caleb uncertainly.  “Doesn’t this make us just as bad as Blackwell?”<br/>
<br/>
“No,” you state firmly.  “Because we’re going to undo this once we stop Blackwell.  This is just something temporary.  You said it yourself yesterday: The ends justify the means.”<br/>
<br/>
“We’re still going to make copies of the Garners later though, right,” asks Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“Not the time to ask,” you say to Keith before continuing talking to Caleb.  “We’re agreed on this?”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” says Caleb.  “I trust you Will, just don’t…  don’t let this thing control you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok then, the plan is pretty simple. The old golem will polish the two new masks over the weekend.  Oh and translate the new spell.”<br/>
<br/>
“I have a name.” it interrupts.<br/>
<br/>
“No, you have someone else’s name.”<br/>
<br/>
“You could use it’s name though,” says Caleb.  “Otherwise it’s going to be very confusing.”<br/>
<br/>
“True,” you acknowledge.  “Melody will polish the new masks and translate the new spell.  Seth will return to his normal life over the weekend, although he will tell no one about what has happened here or the masks.  He’ll come back here on Sunday evening and we’ll make the switch.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sunday evening, right,” says Keith.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you understand your orders,” you ask the new golem.<br/>
<br/>
“Clearly,” it says angrily.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
 Sunday goes without a hitch.  You copied yourself onto one of the new masks.  The new golem proved to be remarkably friendlier once it had your personality.  It did feel very weird looking at it as it walked out the door and into your life.  After that it was simple enough to don the Seth Javits mask and abandoned clothes.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s pretty weird,” says Keith.  “Looking at Seth and not being frightened for a change.”<br/>
<br/>
“I can be just like him,” you growl convincingly.  “If you’re going to miss it.”<br/>
<br/>
“No! Er… No… I think I prefer not to be bullied.  What about the spare mask though?”<br/>
<br/>
The original golem managed to polish two masks over the weekend.<br/>
<br/>
“We could keep it and use it for this new spell,” says Caleb, looking up from the translation.  “Melody seems to think it’s similar to the last one, but the effects are temporary.”<br/>
<br/>
“That would be good,” you say.  “I don’t think I want to golemize anyone else.  It’d be useful to have it in reserve anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
“Or,” begins Keith with a hopeful tone to his voice.  “You could let me use the Richards mask to capture Eva on the spare mask.  Please.”<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not sure,” you begin.  “It’s going to be difficult enough keeping track of Blackwell without worrying about you trying to make a mask of someone.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please,” begs Keith.  “I’d make it up to you.  <i>Eva</i> would make it up to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s possibly the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard,” says Caleb.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112
author_id: imaj
title: Let Keith Copy Eva
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Fucking Hell,” you say.  “I must be crazy or something.”<br/>
<br/>
“That’s a yes,” asks Keith hopefully.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, just be fucking careful is all.”<br/>
<br/>
It is a big risk.  Any number of things could go wrong not least of which is Blackwell spotting Keith.  But Keith is your friend.  Both he and Caleb are wavering following the golemization of the real Seth Javits.  Anything that keeps Keith happy, keeps him on board.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
You spot Cindy as you walk up the steps to the main entrance of Westside on Monday morning.  She’s surrounded by a flock of cheerleaders.  Mostly the B string: Gloria, Yumi, Lin.  They walk off quickly as they see you approach.<br/>
<br/>
You barely recognise Cindy.<br/>
<br/>
You’re used to seeing her immaculately made up and all Seth’s memories show her as being bubbly and energetic.  The Cindy in front of you is bedraggled and listless.  It’s clear that she’s been crying.  Her make up has run and her blonde hair is in disarray.  When she looks up and sees you, she practically runs up to you.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh Seth,” she says, holding herself against your chest.<br/>
<br/>
You try to relax your mind and let the Seth Javits personality in the mask guide you.<br/>
<br/>
Shit…<br/>
<br/>
Seth is freaked out by the whole affair.  He wants nothing more than to push her away and run off.  And possibly find another cheerleader that is going to be energetic and bubbly.  You struggle to resist the impulses.  Dumping Cindy would be in character, but the entire point of impersonating Seth was to get close to Cindy. <br/>
<br/>
You pat Cindy on the back standoffishly.  It feels forced and stilted, but somehow that seems right.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m here,” you rumble monosyllabically.<br/>
<br/>
“I just… feel so lost,” she says unevenly, sitting down on the steps.  “I miss her so much.”<br/>
<br/>
“I know,” you say uncertainly, sitting down besides her.<br/>
<br/>
“And now Lin tells me Chelsea has been pulling all sorts of shit while I was off last week.  She’s talking about pulling in a standby because I’m not fit to be on the squad.”<br/>
<br/>
“You want me to talk to Gordon,” you ask<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” Cindy says hugging you.  “There’s just something so weird about the whole situation.  I just can’t work out why it all feels so strange.”<br/>
<br/>
Strange is definitely the word for it, you think as you leave Cindy to talk to her friends and walk on into the school.  Either Blackwell is a fantastic actor or you’ve made a big mistake.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
Your working your way down the main hall towards the dinner hall for lunch.  The basketball team and cheerleaders usually hold court there every day, just to remind the rest of Westside how important they are.<br/>
<br/>
“Psst,” whispers Jeremy Richards from behind you.  “Over here Will.”<br/>
<br/>
You look round.  Judging by the cheap tracksuit he’s wearing and the fact he just called you Will, you guess it’s actually Keith wearing the mask you created to trap the real Javits last week.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you fucking crazy,” you say, pushing him against some lockers and letting Javits’ personality run the show a little.  “You know anybody could be listening.”<br/>
<br/>
“Right, right, <i>Seth</i> then.”<br/>
<br/>
“Get out of sight,” you hiss.  “Before anyone sees you.”<br/>
<br/>
“On it,” replies Keith.  He ducks into a nearby empty classroom.<br/>
<br/>
“So what the hell is it,” you ask, following him in.<br/>
<br/>
“Look what I got,” he says quietly.<br/>
<br/>
Keith pulls out a mask from his book bag and hands it to you.  You turn it over carefully, examining the reflection trapped in it:  A voluptuous girl with short blonde hair.<br/>
<br/>
“You got Eva then?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh I more than got Eva,” he says grinning inanely.  Keith proceeds to explain exactly what happened when he captured Eva’s image in the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“And she…” you splutter.  “There and then, in a store cupboard?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh yes,” he replies.<br/>
<br/>
“You know that’s going to be the first thing you remember when you put that mask on.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith’s expression sours.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not a cocksucker,” he states angrily.<br/>
<br/>
“You will be when you put that mask on,” you snark.  “Look, just take that damn mask off now.  Don’t wear either of them till I see you at the clubhouse after school.  You can’t use the new one until it’s sealed anyway.”<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks crestfallen as he pulls off the mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Look,” you say contritely.  “We just need to be careful.  Where are Caleb and the golem anyway?”<br/>
<br/>
“I think I saw them talking to Lisa out by your locker.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ok, can you go there and keep an eye on them.  I’m counting on you Keith.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sure,” he replies.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">*****</div><br/>
<br/>
“Yo, Javits,” shouts Gordon Black as you approach his table in the dinner hall.<br/>
<br/>
You salute him with a wave of your hand and a goofy grin, just like the real Seth would.  The basketball team are laying round table lazily.  Besides Gordon sits Chelsea Cooper, the schools head cheerleader.  She’s polishing her nails, but she’s also casting her gaze warily around the room, like a predator waiting to strike.<br/>
<br/>
“Sit down my man,” says Gordon.  He motions to the rest of the team to scram, leaving you, him and Chelsea sitting alone at the table.  “I wanted to talk to you.”<br/>
<br/>
“<i>I</i> wanted to talk to him,” says Chelsea to Gordon, making it clear who’s in charge.  “About Cindy.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, yes…” you begin.<br/>
<br/>
“Shut up,” interrupts Chelsea. “There’s something pretty weird going on around here at the moment.  I’m going to find out who’s fucking up my team and I’m going to fuck them up.”<br/>
<br/>
You’re momentarily taken aback by Chelsea’s vehemence.  Luckily she doesn’t notice.<br/>
<br/>
“I know Cindy’s involved in this somehow, and that means you are involved.  So both of you are going to wait behind after final bell and we’re going to get the bottom of this.”<br/>
<br/>
You wonder if it’s possible that Chelsea has picked up on something that you’ve missed.  Her sudden intervention is more than a little odd.  You’ve already said you’d meet Keith after school too.  You can’t do both.  </span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121
author_id: seuzz
title: Kidnapping Keith
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>After lunch, as you plow through the hallways to your next class, you catch sight of your replacement grinning stupidly to itself by its locker. "The fuck are you so happy about?" you glare at it.<br/>
<br/>
Prescott's smile turns terrified. "I hooking up with my girlfriend again?" he says weakly.<br/>
<br/>
"You haven't got a girlfriend," you snort and push on. You glance behind to find him looking crestfallen.<br/>
<br/>
That's pretty weird: Keith mentioned seeing Lisa talking to "Will" earlier; and she has been circling you for awhile. You spend the rest of the day hunched in the back of the classrooms, making yourself paranoid with lots of possibilities. You get in trouble several times for not paying attention or doing the work—which is perfectly in character.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Haven't hung out with you in a while, Tilley," you say as you swing by Keith's locker after last class. You grab him by the back of the belt and frog-march him out the door to the parking lot. There are scattered hoots and catcalls as you go.<br/>
<br/>
At your car you shove him hard into its passenger-side; he slumps as you open the trunk. "Get in," you order. <br/>
<br/>
"What's fucking wrong with you?" he says wonderingly. So you haul him up, push him in, and slam the trunk shut. Across the way you see Patterson and Lynch watching, mouths agape. They turn and laugh at each other in delight. You just get in the car and drive off, honking at the assholes clogging the way.<br/>
<br/>
It's start-and-stop all the way out to the street, so you dial Eva Garner on your cell phone. "Hey, it's Seth," you say when she picks up. "I need to talk to you about Jeremy." <br/>
<br/>
There's a murmur of voices, and then she comes on more clearly. "Okay, what?"<br/>
<br/>
"This is serious and private. I want to meet with you."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," she says slowly. "Tonight? Can we do it online?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, I think this should be in person. This is totally serious, and it needs to be face to face. And I think we should do it now. He's not there with you now, is he?"<br/>
<br/>
There's more murmuring, and then she comes back on. "No, but I really don't have time now."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it, Eva, I'm trying to do the right thing for you. You do <i>not</i> want to fuck things up, and right now you don't know how easy you could fuck it up. Badly."<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't you be with Cindy?" she says in an accusing tone.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, I should. And that tells you how serious this is, that I'm ditching my own girlfriend to give you an incredibly serious heart-to-heart talk about Richards."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," she sighs. "My house?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, someplace out of the way. How about ... Oh, I know, the old elementary school down in Acheson?" She doesn't know it, so you give her the address. "It's totally out the way. No one will bust in on us, and you totally don't want anyone to know we had this talk."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright," she says. "But it'll be an hour before I can get there."<br/>
<br/>
It's just as well. Keith isn't going anyplace, so you use the delay to make a few purchases using Javits' debit card: his dad and older brothers just showered him with some money as a reward for making the team his senior year. You still have about fifteen minutes to spare when you pull up at the school.<br/>
<br/>
"File this stuff where it needs to go," you tell the Melody-golem brusquely as you dump the makings for two more masks in front of her.<br/>
<br/>
"No 'please' or 'do you mind'?"<br/>
<br/>
"I haven't got time. Is that thing ready to go?" You point to the blue mask by her side.<br/>
<br/>
"How long does it really take to say 'please'? Okay, sorry, jeez," she flinches at your expression. "I forgot you're a 'big man' now and can push people around. Yeah, it's ready."<br/>
<br/>
"Get the stuff together for the next spell. Hurry."<br/>
<br/>
Outside, Keith squints up at you from the trunk. "I'm sorry I got a blow job off Eva?" His tone is more of a question than an apology.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up." You shove the blank mask onto his face, and while he's passed out you tear his clothes off and pull the Eva mask from his bag. You run back inside. "Is the new spell ready?"<br/>
<br/>
"Almost. I need a bit of your hair."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
"I also need you to draw the sigil."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't want to hurry, either," she cautions you as you start to copy the sigil from the book onto a piece of paper. It's tedious work, because you know it's important.<br/>
<br/>
And then you hear the crunch of tires from outside. Eva is early. <br/>
<br/>
You leap over to the door and quietly shut it, then hurry back to your task. "What now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hair?"<br/>
<br/>
You freeze. "Whose hair?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yours, not the hoopster's."<br/>
<br/>
"How come?"<br/>
<br/>
"I think that's what controls the golem. It makes you its master."<br/>
<br/>
You think quickly. "Okay, just get everything else ready. Put it in a bowl. I'll be right back."<br/>
<br/>
Eva turns as you bound out the basement door. "What is this place? Is this like your hang out spot?"<br/>
<br/>
"Something like that." You grab her and press the mask Keith made of her this afternoon to her face. It's a gamble, but you're betting it will keep her quiet for a bit. It disappears into her, and you let her sink to the ground. <br/>
<br/>
You open the trunk again. "Are you crazy?" Keith shouts at you.<br/>
<br/>
"You're such a whiner." You scoop up the mask you just made of Keith and slam the trunk shut. Then you open it again.<br/>
<br/>
"What am I, a freaking jack-in-the— Ow! Fucker!" You've just ripped a hank of his hair—and a bit of his scalp—from his head. You slam the trunk shut again.<br/>
<br/>
You sprint back to the basement and drop the mask and the hair in front of Melody. "What now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hair. Fuel. Mask." She drops the first two ingredients into the mask and set it on the sigil. "Light it up." <br/>
<br/>
You fumble out some matches, light one, and fling it into the mess. There's a flash and a flame starts to burn. "How long will that take?"<br/>
<br/>
"Somewhere between thirty seconds and a week."<br/>
<br/>
"Shit." You run back out again. The mask has reappeared on Eva's face. You gently lift it off and hide it under your shirt. She stirs.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you okay?" you ask in a concerned voice. "You just fainted."<br/>
<br/>
"I— What the hell?" She bats her hands at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, it's okay. I think you just got hit by sunstroke or something."<br/>
<br/>
"It's freaking September! How can I get sunstroke in—"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, let's get you someplace cool." Gently you lift her to her feet and help her stumble over to the basement door. <i>Thirty seconds,</i> you pray to yourself. <i>Please let it be thirty seconds and not a week.</i><br/>
<br/>
Eva starts at the sight of Melody, who is holding the mask. It is no longer burning.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that thing ready?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"All ready, boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Toss it here."<br/>
<br/>
"Seth, what the fuck is going on?" Eva demands. She wheels on you as you catch the mask in one hand. This makes it easy to press it to her face: like hitting her in the kisser with a pie, the though comes to you incongruously.<br/>
<br/>
She slumps, and her body flexes and changes. All her clothes seem to shrink even as she grows. A few seconds later, a duplicate of Keith sprawls on the floor, wearing Eva's clothes. He opens his eyes and looks up at you. "I don't care who you look like. I'm going to kick your ass so hard that—" He freezes and looks down at himself: skirt, boots, halter top. "Christ. Even the real Javits never did <i>this</i> to me."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, you can get undressed. I'll bring you your real clothes in a minute. Wait here."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck this. I—"<br/>
<br/>
You shove him against the wall. He's not obeying your orders (Melody must be right; since it has Keith's hair it is his slave, not yours), but you can still bully it. "You wanna stay dressed like that? Fine. You can walk home like that." It starts to strip sulkily.<br/>
<br/>
Back out at your car, you take out the Eva mask and weigh it thoughtfully. Keith can probably be talked into playing either Eva or Javits. You want the former because she is friends with Lisa, because she can be a non-suspicious communications link between Javits and Caleb, and as a cheerleader she can give you inside info on Chelsea and why she's being such a bitch. But Seth feels like a safer perch from which to manage things, and he's closer to your still-prime suspect.</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111211
author_id: seuzz
title: Keith's New Body
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>This time Keith doesn't even say anything as you open the trunk. "Take your clothes off, dude," you order.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't care who you look like—"<br/>
<br/>
"—I'm going to kick your ass so hard," you finish with him in unison. "I've heard it before. Look, you want to go home as Eva Garner or don't you?" You hold up the Eva mask.<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you warily. "What are you planning?"<br/>
<br/>
"I need someone on the cheerleader squad, for a couple of reasons. And since you got us an Eva mask, I think she's volunteered, and so are you. Come on."<br/>
<br/>
You help him out of the trunk and lead him into the basement. His eyes go wide at the sight of his double. "Jesus fuck," he exclaims. "What is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, obviously you can't disappear," you say impatiently. "So this guy's going to take your place. That's the real Eva Garner under that mask, but for all anyone will know or care, that's you."<br/>
<br/>
"No shit?" the naked Keith-golem exclaims. "I've got Eva inside me?" He starts rubbing his hands all over his scrawny body. <br/>
<br/>
"Stop that, you're grossing us out," you tell it.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll cum in your face if I want to," it retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah, that's another thing," you tell Keith. "I knew you'd be freaked out, so I arranged it so that he's <i>your</i> slave, not mine. He has to do what you say. Just tell him we're all on the same team."<br/>
<br/>
Keith chokes a little, then grins. "So if I told him to suck me off—?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't wanna know!" you cry. "And you don't want to piss me off. You have no idea how hard it is to keep Seth's disgust with you under control. Just put on the mask of Eva and get dressed. I'll be over here."<br/>
<br/>
You do your best to ignore what's going on behind you as you stir together the ingredients for the two new masks. Only when you catch sight of Melody with her jaw hanging open do you turn. The new Keith and the new Eva are at least fully dressed, but they are also deeply, lustfully kissing. She's got her hands behind his head and is pulling him down; he's gripping her ass. After a few more seconds of this, they break off. "Shit," Eva mutters. "It's like kissing my brother."<br/>
<br/>
"It's just as well," you say. You pour half the goop over the mirror and set it ablaze. "You'll want to save yourself for Jeremy."<br/>
<br/>
She makes a face, and then turns thoughtful. "Well, I guess I can pretend," she says. She twists into a girlish pose. A wicked grin flashes on her face. "Besides, it'll be a sick joke on him."<br/>
<br/>
You pour the rest of the mask liquid over the mirror. "Just remember that he can't ever be in on the punch line. Now, this is what I need from you guys. Keith—" The golem jumps at his name. "Stick close to Will. I don't want him alone with anyone. Except, of course, for me or Eva. Even Caleb can't be alone with him."<br/>
<br/>
"Are we going to tell Caleb about this swap?" Eva-disguised Keith asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Of course. That's another thing I need from you. I can't really talk with him while I'm dressed up as Javits. You'll need to be our communications link, passing messages along."<br/>
<br/>
"Got it."<br/>
<br/>
"Also, find out from Lisa what she's feeling for Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Christ, you're not still hung up on her, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, but she's acting weird. I don't like it. Eva is close to her. Does Eva know anything about what she's up to?"<br/>
<br/>
She thinks. "Eva's noticed that she seems to be interested in you again, but she hasn't said anything."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, snoop. Even if it's innocent, has nothing to do with Blackwell ... Well, I'm still interested."<br/>
<br/>
"I get it," she sighs.<br/>
<br/>
"And third, I need to know what is going on with the cheerleader squad. Chelsea's also acting a little weird. Lucy used to be a cheerleader, so Chelsea has to be another suspect."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought Cindy was the prime suspect."<br/>
<br/>
"She is, which is why I'm sticking it out as Seth."<br/>
<br/>
"Among other reasons," Keith smirks.<br/>
<br/>
"You know, Tilley," you say, getting in the golem's face. "You're not even fucking real. You're just a piece of shit with a fake face, which means I can fucking break you with a clear conscience. Before this swap, I couldn't. So if I were you I'd think real hard before letting loose any smart-ass comments." It turns white, and swallows.<br/>
<br/>
"Now that that's sorted out," you say pleasantly, "let's go back to our fake lives. I'll call Caleb later tonight with an update."<br/>
<br/>
"Say boss," the Melody golem says. "You got the new mask onto your victim so fast that we didn't unlock the next spell. You wanna do that first?"<br/>
<br/>
You think a moment, then shake your head. "We'll rig up a new mask and use that when it's done."<br/>
<br/>
Melody raises an eyebrow. "You know, you can't use the mask to unlock the next spell until you've golemized it, and you can't golemize it until you've put someone in it. So, you have <i>another</i> replacement in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Caleb hasn't got a disguise. He might need one."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"I fucking hope I <i>don't</i> need one," he barks at you. You pull the cell phone away from your ear. "This is out of control. First Javits and now Eva."<br/>
<br/>
"Eva's okay," you say. "I'm sure all we have to do is take the mask off the fake Keith and she'll be back to normal."<br/>
<br/>
"But what will she remember and what will she do?"<br/>
<br/>
"We'll worry about that when this mess is cleaned up. Whatever she remembers or does can't be worse than what Blackwell would do to us. And by the way, that's how come I'm thinking of finding you a hiding place. You said yourself that you're in the line of fire."<br/>
<br/>
"I know," he sighs. "But there's a difference between being in the line of fire, and shoving someone else between you and the barrel of the gun."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's fucking noble of you, but if you're the weak link, and you go down, you could take me and Keith with you."<br/>
<br/>
He mutters an oath. "Okay, so who have you got picked out for me?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one yet," you retort. "Hopefully it won't come to that. And, anyway, it'll be a few days before the new masks are polished up and prepped."<br/>
<br/>
"And there will be more masks after that—"<br/>
<br/>
"Will you stop it? This is as far as we go. I haven't even unsealed the next spell." You tap the book, which is sitting in your lap, wishing now that you <i>had</i> unlocked it.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, good for you," he says with weary sarcasm. "So in the meantime I'm just supposed to keep an eye on ... um ... Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. But don't tell him about the swap I made between Keith and Eva. I'm thinking about moving our base of operations, and the less he knows about who is who and where, the better."<br/>
<br/>
"I feel like I need a scorecard," Caleb grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Working hard, a golem can polish up a mask within 24 hours, so you figure it'll be Thursday before you are in a position to move Caleb. That would give you two days to sort things out before you may have to put Caleb's faith in you to the test.<br/>
<br/>
And yet you feel the crisis point come earlier. The next day there's basketball to practice and classes to attend; there's Chelsea to dodge and Cindy to comfort. The latter, of course, is your prime job. You keep real close to her all day, cradling her and comforting her and doing your best to make sure that she doesn't go wandering off toward Prescott. She seems to really respond to the attention, and sticks to you like a burr in a shoelace. In fact, she is so clingy that you are soon more convinced than not that she's not Blackwell. That only heightens your paranoia about where else he might be.<br/>
<br/>
You feel the breaking point come short after school. You are sitting on the outside bleachers, holding Cindy tight and murmuring meaninglessly into her hair, when you look up to see Prescott and Lisa come out one of the side doors. You watch out of the corner of your eye as the crowd of student thins around them until they are alone. They talk for a little longer, and then Lisa starts to tug a clearly reluctant Prescott around the corner out of sight.<br/>
<br/>
"Baby, what's wrong," Cindy coos. You are half out of you seat when the school door opens and Caleb appears. He calls to Will, and he and Lisa stop. The three fall into a conversation, and then they all begin to walk toward the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing," you mumble, and sink back down into Cindy's embrace.</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112111
author_id: seuzz
title: Team Players
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So where are you with that thing?"<br/>
<br/>
The Melody golem gives you a look of exasperation. "Christ, I don't <i>have</i> to sleep, but sometimes I do get really tired of working on this shit for you."<br/>
<br/>
"You're going on vacation," you tell it curtly as you start sweeping up the various powders and oils and whatnot and sealing them into plastic containers you bought special for that purpose. "Start labeling these." You toss it some adhesive labels and a pen. Thank God Seth has an anal-compulsive streak or it wouldn't have occurred to you that the shit might need organizing.<br/>
<br/>
"What's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"We're pulling up stakes. Keith and Eva will be here soon."<br/>
<br/>
"You mean Keith and the guy you turned into a golem and who is wearing— Okay, okay." She stops at the look you give her.<br/>
<br/>
She is a good worker, though. The first mask is finished, and you wrap it and the others up carefully in a cloth and stow them in plastic bags: the mask that unites Umeko's features with your own mind strip; the mask of Jeremy Richards; the just-polished mask; and the still-unfinished mask. It takes longer to get the other things boxed, and your two cohorts arrive in the meantime. You toss the bag containing the unpolished mask to the Keith golem. "Dude, I need you to polish this up. Get it done by Wednesday night."<br/>
<br/>
He looks over at Eva. "Do I gotta do what he says?"<br/>
<br/>
She shrugs. "Polish up the mask. Try to get it done by Wednesday night."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Get</i> it done by Wednesday night," you correct her. She gives the golem the corrected order.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you need me to do?" Melody asks. "You have some clothes for me, or am I supposed to go out like this?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're not going anywhere. Not like that." You rip the mask from its face, leaving the shapeless golem, and add the Melody mask to your collection. "Eva, can you get your dickhead to help me move this thing out to my car? We'll put it in the trunk."<br/>
<br/>
"You know," she says crossly, "I'm not sure I like you talking about ... Well, talking about the guy who currently looks like me that way."<br/>
<br/>
"What, you're planning on going back to <i>that</i>?" You jerk your head dismissively at the Keith golem.<br/>
<br/>
She blinks. "Are you saying we might not let the real Eva back out again?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not saying anything," you say evenly. "The fact is that you and Caleb are in on this with me, and we should all have a vote on what happens afterward."<br/>
<br/>
She looks very thoughtful as she continues to bag and box things up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The fact is that you have been giving serious thought to what comes next. Seth and Eva will be mighty pissed if they remember any of what happened to them, and they'll be powerfully confused if they don't. And if you don't put them back to normal, you and Keith (and maybe Caleb) will have your choice of places to live. <br/>
<br/>
Problem is, that's also a powerful argument against making another switch—making another victim—even though Caleb should get a hiding spot of his own.<br/>
<br/>
"Fucking hell," he swears. He leaps to his feet and paces about without looking at you—and certainly without looking down at the mask you are holding.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm just trying to look out for you," you tell him. He rolls his eyes. "It's your decision. And if you say 'no' to this switch, I won't ask you again."<br/>
<br/>
It's dark, and you've a hard time reading his expression even in those moments his face is turned toward yours.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't get this," he says at last. "Blackwell's after you—"<br/>
<br/>
"But he might try to grab you to get to me."<br/>
<br/>
"But even if he does that-- I mean, let's say he does get to you. I mean, the fake you I have to keep pretending is you."<br/>
<br/>
"How is that going?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's going. He's just as much of a dumbass as you. But say he gets to him. What would happen? You moved the book and all the stuff over to Keith's, and you say you didn't tell, er, Will about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Right. Security measure."<br/>
<br/>
"So Blackwell will have wasted his last mask and he <i>still</i> won't be any closer to getting the book."<br/>
<br/>
"That's when he might go after you or Keith."<br/>
<br/>
"And then he'll find out that way where you are."<br/>
<br/>
"But it won't be <i>you</i> he'll be grabbing or replacing. It'll be a fake. <i>You</i> will be safe."<br/>
<br/>
He looks down skeptically at the mask. "You're not suggesting this because you think it would be funny to hook me and Keith up, are you?"<br/>
<br/>
You wince. "It's another close connection," you say cautiously. "The three of us can hang out without it looking funny."<br/>
<br/>
"It's gonna feel totally fucked up." He sighs. "But the whole thing is fucked up. And it isn't even Halloween yet."<br/>
<br/>
You take that as a "yes."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Whoa. Wasn't expecting to find <i>you</i> here, Johansson," Jeremy says. He eyes Caleb narrowly.<br/>
<br/>
"He's doing my math homework for me," you grin. Caleb looks up darkly from the desk. "I mean, he's helping me out with it. Ain't that right, Johansson?" Caleb says nothing. "Trying to score some points." You nudge Richards.<br/>
<br/>
"I'd double check his work when he's done, if I were you," Richards grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it. He knows what I'll do to him if he screws up." You laugh nastily. "Oh hey, check out the faggot arts project he had with him when he came over." You toss a glowing mask to Richards. "Halloween's coming up. Put that on, get yourself a hood." Richards examines it skeptically. "Go on. Let's check you out with it."<br/>
<br/>
Richards makes a face and holds it up close—but not close enough. So you push it all the way on with a rough shove. He falls back on the bed.<br/>
<br/>
"Clothes off, Johansson," you order as you start pulling off Richards' shoes. "If my folks find anyone naked in here—"<br/>
<br/>
"It would serve you right," Caleb finishes your sentence, but he's already pulling his shirt off.<br/>
<br/>
A few minutes later the switch is done. "Go on, give your new playmate an order," you taunt the new Jeremy Richards.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a dead-eyed glower then turns back to the new Caleb. "Punch Seth in the balls."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh, but Caleb is quick, and you barely parry his punch. But then you twist his fist and press it back. He gasps and sinks to his knees. "Odds ain't exactly even, are they, Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
They even up, though, when Richards hurls himself on you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a little of your own back the next morning. First, on your way in, you spot Keith getting out of his car. Patterson has spotted you, so you have to make your encounter with the golem look good. You shove him against the car and pin him there. "You got something for me, Tilley?" You pull his backpack down and start rifling through it.<br/>
<br/>
"Jesus," he mutters as you pull the new mask out of his pack and slip it into your own kit. "You could ask nicely. I was up until five finishing it off."<br/>
<br/>
"Gotta make it look good," you murmur. "People are watching." To put the exclamation point on it, you shove him to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
Patterson's expression as you saunter up is disapproving. "You making him your special project or something?"<br/>
<br/>
"He just rubs me the wrong way," you shrug. "Has ever since middle school."<br/>
<br/>
"Lynch is an asshole and a psycho, but you're not." Patterson's eyes are cold. "Don't think you're impressing anyone."<br/>
<br/>
You get a little more back at practice. Maybe it's all the time you've spent letting Javits' personality shine forth, but you're on fire at the pre-class session. Even Gordon Black, the team captain, and not a fucker given to paying compliments, offers up a few gruff words of praise. Richards is in sad shape though, and Black and Patterson corner him two-thirds of the way through, scream at him in stereo, and set him to running laps while everyone else keeps practicing. <br/>
<br/>
"I'm not good enough for the team," he says to you in a pained voice when he's done. He bends over, resting one hand on his knee and using the other to wipe his streaming face with his jersey.<br/>
<br/>
"Give it a day and you'll settle in," you tell him quietly. "I was making bricks all yesterday and look at me now. Let Richards out."<br/>
<br/>
"I am," he retorts. "This is how he feels." He pushes his mop of sweat-drenched hair out of his face. <br/>
<br/>
"No changing till you make a three-point!" Gordon shouts from the other side of the court.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll be here till fourth period," Richards moans.<br/>
<br/>
"Would that be bad?" You grin and slap him in the stomach.<br/>
<br/>
Actually, he makes one easily, and he and the rest of the team change quickly—except for you and Black. The captain pulls you aside. "I can't do anything about Cindy," he tells you. "Chelsea's being stubborn. She's off the squad."<br/>
<br/>
"Gordon, it's a wrong thing," you tell him. "You know that. I mean, her sister being killed—"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know about right and wrong," he says coldly. "I just know she can do it and she is." You curse to yourself, and he presses an unfriendly hand to your chest. "Don't make trouble for me."<br/>
<br/>
You nod unhappily. Only when he's back at his locker and you're at his do you notice that the locker room has emptied out.</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121111
author_id: seuzz
title: Rescuing Lisa
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As Gordon bends over to pick up his backpack, you slip the mask around and press it on him. He does a faceplant right into the bench. When the mask reappears, you carefully lift it off and sneak out without waking him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
There are no repercussions at lunch, where he and the other guys are quite friendly; apparently he shrugged off the "fainting attack." The cheerleaders are another matter. Gordon's warning about Cindy was just a formality: Chelsea dropped the axe on your girlfriend during first period. Cindy is very subdued, but she has cried herself out over the past few days, and maybe your own shoulder has helped her through. At any rate she insists on sitting at the table with the others in the group, even though only Yumi and Lin treat her kindly. The others are cold to her.<br/>
<br/>
You see her off to her next class and fall in next to Jeremy and Eva. "I picked up another thing at practice," you tell them, and open you backpack to show them the top of the mask. "It's Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
Richards grabs you by the collar and drags you into an empty classroom. "This has got to stop," he says in a grim, threatening voice. "We're not doing another replacement."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'd need another mask to replace him," you say weakly. "So it's not like we could use it right away."<br/>
<br/>
"You're not getting another mask. My golem has to do what I say, and I'm telling it not to make any more for you. Tilley?" He turns to Eva.<br/>
<br/>
She looks palely between you and Richards, then nods. "No more, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I wasn't seriously planning to do anything, but it's good to be prepared."<br/>
<br/>
The bell rings but Richards ignores it. "You know, I've been thinking, and I've decided you're letting your paranoia or your power trip or <i>something</i> go to your head. Look, suppose Blackwell corners you. The fake you, I mean. What can he do? You've got the book, not it. He'd have wasted his mask on the fake—"<br/>
<br/>
"He might have more than one mask."<br/>
<br/>
"So you're just going to keep running? Move from Seth to Gordon and Gordon to Chelsea and Chelsea to ... I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
"And there's three of us, Will," Eva points out. "We outnumber him."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, what's with this running away?" Richards asks. "Why are you so scared he's going to corner you, when we can corner him?"<br/>
<br/>
"But we don't know where he is."<br/>
<br/>
"And he doesn't know where <i>we</i> are. In fact, he doesn't even know there's three of us. So why not take the battle to him?"<br/>
<br/>
"How, by ripping the faces off each student in the school?"<br/>
<br/>
"You got a reputation, <i>Javits,</i>" Richards says. "You might use it. Or," he says after you make a face, "bust in on him at his house. The two of us could take him. Put Tilley in that mask you just made and it'd be three of us."<br/>
<br/>
Deep in your head, the mind of Seth Javits stirs and tells you to do it. You, though, have an objection: "But we won't find him at his house. He's somewhere in the school."<br/>
<br/>
"So who's teaching his classes at the university?"<br/>
<br/>
"He has a golem doing that. That's all we'd—" You trail off. If you could get the mask off his golem and put it on, you'd know all his plans.<br/>
<br/>
You shove Richards hard in the chest and grin. "You're a fucking genius, Richards. We'll crash in on him right after school."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Blackwell has barely got the door open before you kick it in with a powerful leg. You then rush him, kicking him double in the stomach and dropping him to the ground. You sit on his chest, put your hand to his brow, and pray while tugging. If this is the real Blackwell, you'll have just blown your cover. <br/>
<br/>
A mask comes away in your hand, leaving a stone slab dressed as Blackwell. And you didn't even need the other two to help.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuckin' A," you gloat. The inside of the mask is a pure blue, which convinces you that it would be safe to wear. You hand it to Richards. "It was your idea, dude. Care to do the honors?" He makes a face, but takes it. "Do it in the bathroom. You'll want to strip first."<br/>
<br/>
He lopes off into another room while you and Keith—temporarily disguised as Gordon Black—look around. The foyer is spare but tastefully furnished. Caleb seems to have ducked into a living room. Other nearby rooms include a kitchen and dining room.<br/>
<br/>
But the really notable room is the library. Tall bookcases cover three walls, and it is decorated with sinister-looking statues that glare out from alcoves. Two grandfather clocks tick out of synch in the corner. It is gloomy, occult, and deeply unsettling. And that's where you're standing when an even more unsettling apparition appears: the naked Aubrey Blackwell. He runs in and twists one of the heads on a three-headed dog statue; one of the bookshelves opens up to reveal a secret door. He then snatches up a strangely-shaped icon and presses it on you. "You'll need this to get up and down the stairs in there. Go get her while I change back."<br/>
<br/>
"Who is it?" you call after him as he hurries away.<br/>
<br/>
"It's Lisa!" he calls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
She is naked and disheveled, and an emotional wreck. Keith grabbed from sheets from an upstairs bedroom while you led her gently up the spiral staircase and into the living room, where Caleb, reborn as Jeremy Richards, waited. You hold her closely, while two other apparent basketball players—Richards and Black—flank her on the sofa and floor. She drinks long from the glasses of water that you've fetched her, and trembles.<br/>
<br/>
"It was Lucy Vredenburg who brought me out here," she says. "She picked me up ... I don't know, I've lost track of the time. A couple of nights ago, I think. And when I woke up I was down in that ... that hole." There's not much more she can tell you, except that Blackwell would occasionally come down to bring her food and water and empty the chamber pot, but he never spoke to her. "How did you find me?"<br/>
<br/>
You exchange glances with your friends. "That's not really important," you tell her evasively. "You wait here. It'll be alright. I need to talk these guys about what to do."<br/>
<br/>
"You're gonna call the police, right?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure," you say uncertainly. "But we have to talk about, uh, Lucy first. It's complicated."<br/>
<br/>
In the kitchen, the three of you huddle. "The first thing to do is get the real Blackwell back here," Richards says. "He checks in here regularly, but the golem would sometimes call him. We can lure him back." The three of you exchange glances. "I already put him on, I'm not doing it again."<br/>
<br/>
With a groan, Tilley lets himself be daunted by your hard stare, and takes the Blackwell mask upstairs.<br/>
<br/>
"We can't decide till he gets back," you say, turning to Richards, "but what are we going to tell her? The truth?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what else can we tell her? She'll get back home and find out she was never missing."<br/>
<br/>
"What do we tell her about us? She thinks it was Javits and Richards and Black who rescued her."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her the truth there, too." He slaps you in the stomach. "Be a knight in shining armor, get you in good with her."<br/>
<br/>
"Or totally piss her off because I accidentally got her mixed up in it."<br/>
<br/>
"She won't be pissed. Anyway, if we don't tell her, then it'll be totally confusing for her when we let the real Javits and Richards back out again."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I have to stay as Javits until we can find a cure for him."<br/>
<br/>
Richards blinks. "So you're saying I have to stay as Jeremy and Keith has to stay as Eva?"<br/>
<br/>
"Keith would have to stay as Gordon."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck. I <i>knew</i> you'd find a way to make that switch."<br/>
<br/>
The two of you go round and round like this until you notice that Keith hasn't reappeared. You run upstairs to find him dressed out like a naked Eva, frowning into her cell phone.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't find Lisa," she says in a low voice. "She doesn't answer her phone, her parents haven't seen her, and no one else I've called knows where she is."<br/>
<br/>
You and Caleb look grimly at each other. "Well, that settles the first problem. We have to stay like this until we catch him."<br/>
<br/>
The implications are very bad: Blackwell has found a new hiding place, and that suggests he still has an extra mask he can use on you—if he can find you.<br/>
<br/>
"And what do we tell Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to tell me anything," a voice comes from behind you. Lisa stands in the doorway, the sheet wrapped loosely around her. She starts a little to see Eva, but doesn't otherwise react. "Sorry, but you guys really should have kept your voices down. And yeah, I guess I eavesdropped."<br/>
<br/>
"What did you hear?"<br/>
<br/>
"Enough." She looks at the three of you warily. "I don't know exactly what's going on or how you guys got mixed up in it. But I know there are ... like, clones, walking around. I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to think I was crazy, but I saw my own double get dressed and walk out that first night."<br/>
<br/>
"Your double seems to have gone missing," Richards says. "This guy, Blackwell, who owns the house. He was the one pretending to be you. We think he's found a new person to pretend to be."<br/>
<br/>
"What's he done with them?"<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know," you say. "He can't have brought them here. He might have done something ... well, worse than kidnapping."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, whatever is going on," she says, "I want to go home. There is no way I'm staying here."</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111211112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Lisa reveals her true self.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“You can't go home in a sheet or some of Blackwell's clothes." you tell her. "People will notice."<br/>
<br/>
"I can go get some." Eva says. "Come on.  Give me a ride. There's no one at my place now." she adds to Caleb then back at you and Lisa, "I'll be quick. I know how you feel to get out of this creepy place."<br/>
<br/>
"OK." Lisa replies with a sigh. "I guess I can stay here with Seth, ... or whoever you are." she adds suspiciously at the end looking at you.<br/>
<br/>
"Alright.  Get going." you say, and they quickly grab their things and head out.<br/>
<br/>
          ~ ~ ~<br/>
<br/>
Lisa went into the living room while you locked the front door after Keith and Caleb left.  When you came back, she was sitting on the couch staring into space.  You walk over and sit next to her.  She doesn't change her gaze.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay?" you gently ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I think so." comes the answer with a distant sound.  Then turning to you, "Thank you.  I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come by today, Seth ... er. Who are you really that I can thank?"<br/>
<br/>
You so wish this had never happened to her. You've been friends for so long even though you didn't really become a couple.  You do have strong feelings for her and know you owe her this much. You hope she isn't too upset at you.<br/>
<br/>
"It's me." you say as you pull the mask away and slump back on the couch though never completely passing out.  As you quickly gain your senses, Lisa is looking at you smiling strangely.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, Will.  I so hoped it was you." she then leans forward with one hand on your neck and the other behind her.  You smile and start to close your eyes and pucker when you feel the room go dark as something is pushed against your face, and it isn't Lisa's lips.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind drifts and memories flash by like a slide show.  It's a dream where you don't feel your body and can't move.  It's so confusing and frightening that you would dismiss it completely if your mind hadn't been conditioned to donning masks and their effects.  You struggle to resist but can only manage to keep thinking how much you hate Lisa, the bitch, who is stealing your mind.<br/>
<br/>
You feel consciousness coming back and realize that remaining motionless as if still out is your only hope right now.  You smell smoke that you recognize as the golem stuff burned to turn a mask to a slave and you hear Blackwell talking, presumably to his golem which responds in Seth's voice.<br/>
<br/>
"So easy.  Teenage fools trying to play games with a master."<br/>
<br/>
"So what you want me to do now?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just be yourself.  When they come back tell them you threw the golem into the cellar along with the Blackwell mask and the icon needed to get past the guardian.  Then you will take Lisa home, by yourself, telling the others to meet you back here tonight.  Next, get the <i>Libras</i> and bring it here.  Got that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah.  But where's Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Right here, of course.  The young lad is so taken with her, I think he might as well <u>be</u> her ... under my control."<br/>
<br/>
You sense him moving closer as he speaks probably with the Lisa mask now golemized. Obviously, Blackwell set this all up instructing his golem as himself to lock him with Lisa's mask on in the cellar knowing you were bound to come save her. Now he's going to turn you into a slave Lisa and arrange for your friends to come back tonight so he can do the same to them, or worse. AND you still have no idea where Lisa is or what he might have ... you won't consider that possibility.<br/>
<br/>
The only possible plan is that when he gets the mask close enough that you surprise and knock him away also surprising the golem so you can escape past it.  You're sure you can overcome and elude Blackwell, but the golem as Seth Javits will have your ass easily if you aren't quick.  If you're trapped as Lisa, all your friends, including Lisa, will be done for.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah.  But where is Lisa now?" the golem asks again.<br/>
<br/>
You sense Blackwell stop moving towards you and concentrate for his voice, hoping he will spill the truth about the real Lisa, not that it will do you any good if you don't get away soon. It's getting hard to stay still, and you're concerned he's going to see some movement and realize that you aren't really unconscious. You must stay calm and relaxed so he doesn't notice you're about to spring, and listen intently.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, yes.  The real one. She can be another little puppet to replace the unfortunate accident of Ms. Vredenburg. All I have to do is get her from ..."<br/>
<br/>
Just then, there's a knock at the door.  You're hoping it's Keith and Caleb with the clothes.  That should more than even the odds, but you can't tell how close Blackwell is to you.  If you move too soon and miss, he'll let the golem after you and probably get the mask on you one way or another.<br/>
<br/>
"Go see who that is and stall while I get Ms. Yarborough in shape."<br/>
<br/>
You hear the golem exit the room and can sense Blackwell moving towards you.  With a quick jerk, you move one hand to protect your face as you catch a glimpse of Blackwell holding the mask just a bit above you.  The surprise was so unexpected, that you are able to catch him hard with your free hand and knock him aside before he can even utter a word.  By another stroke of good luck, he falls against a table hitting his head knocking him unconscious.<br/>
<br/>
There are voices coming from the hall, and you strain to make out who they are while you figure out what to do with Blackwell and how to find and rescue the real Lisa.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112111122
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Not a rescue you expected.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You feel safe from Blackwell since he's unconscious but have no idea what to do next. The sounds of voices in the front entry are just distorted and muffled enough by the heavy library doors that you can't recognize them or understand anything being said. They may not be your friends and could come in at any moment and think you've attacked Blackwell. A flash of panic races through you.<br/>
<br/>
At first you think that you'll just throw Blackwell down the stairs and let him rot in the basement as he deserves. However, he's an awful weight to move, and you still have no idea where Lisa is or what terrible things he may have done to her or have her doing. Keeping him safe is a first priority even though you despise the thought.<br/>
<br/>
Looking around the room, you see little to help you, so you get up and realize that you're stark naked since the golem has your, or Seth's clothes and wearing that mask. On the desk is the mask of Blackwell, and the golemized mask of Lisa is near Blackwell on the floor. Perhaps if you put the Lisa mask on him you can more easily move him, but the thought of seeing him again in her body and him knowing her mind just makes you angry.<br/>
<br/>
The ticking of the mis-synched clocks is getting on your nerves as you walk around scanning quickly for ideas. A hideous sharp-fanged, vampire-cyclops monkey creature seems to follow you with its eyes as if it knows what's happening and ready to stop you. Eventually you spy the drapery swags that are heavy cord. You jerk them loose and go back to Blackwell and securely bind him then take a piece of cloth and wedge it in his mouth.<br/>
<br/>
The voices seem to be dying down as you heft Blackwell into a corner behind the curtains having removed his robe to wear and put on his mask. The spot seems to have been made to hide a body. You just manage to turn back when the library door swings open. You hope the apprehension and shock doesn't show on your, Blackwell's, face as you watch the golem looking like Seth and three others enter the room. The golem looks around but makes no indication that you are not the real Blackwell. However, that is the least of your worries.<br/>
<br/>
Following him into the room is Richards (Caleb presumably), Eva (Keith), and Lisa. She is visibly shaken when she sees you as Blackwell. Your focus is completely on her that she is safe and don't pay any attention as Richards walks across the room to you and grabs you with his arm over your throat while he twists your arm behind your back.<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck?" you gasp as he's nearly choking you.<br/>
<br/>
"Jig's up, Professor." Jeremy smirks in your ear.<br/>
<br/>
"Time to end your evil plans." Eva chimes in like a bad "B" movie cliché heroine.<br/>
<br/>
"Assssss - hole." you sputter with the little air you're getting. "Turn me loose, Caleb. I'm not Blackwell."<br/>
<br/>
The room remains silent at that as you manage to eventually reach up with your free hand, say the phrase and remove the Blackwell mask. Even with that, it still takes Caleb several seconds to relax Jeremy's arm and release the real Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
          * * *<br/>
<br/>
Unmasking Seth from the golem proves relatively simple as he hadn't been instructed to stop anyone. You spent the next five minutes trading stories of what happened. It seems that when Keith and Caleb got to Eva's house, Lisa was there. Her phone had lost charge, and she had gone over to talk to Eva without telling anyone. After Jeremy and Eva terrorized Lisa trying to rip her face off, they realized that they had left you with the phony Lisa and the real Blackwell. Apologizing, they dragged Lisa with them and had had a most interesting and confusing conversation at the front door until Jeremy got frustrated and pushed Seth back to the library.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa's story was actually quite innocent.  Lucy Vredenburg had brought Lisa along to Blackwell's a week ago under the pretext of needing to drop an assignment off to Blackwell.  While there, it turned into a suggestion of getting Blackwell to write a recommendation for Lisa to help with a college application. It was a rather pleasant encounter with a rather unpleasant Blackwell. At one point Lisa remembered fainting, but nothing else peculiar had happened. He had even offered her a job helping catalog some books one evening a week so he could add some substance to his recommendation, and Lisa had come by on Tuesday and Thursday for a couple hours, but was under his guidance not to tell anyone who or what she was doing.<br/>
<br/>
No one had discussed the masks, and it didn't even dawn on you that Lisa was actually completely in the dark. It's not that you thought Keith or Caleb had explained when they drove her over. It's just you always thought Lisa knew stuff or figured things out about you. That's probably another reason why she never considered you more than a friend, but that thought wasn't on your mind now either as Lisa popped the big question.<br/>
<br/>
"Can someone please tell me how you looked so like Professor Blackwell and how that thing," pointing at the golem, "was so much like Seth until you ...," motioning with her hands over her face. "What are those things you pull off the faces?"<br/>
<br/>
You remain silent, more from not knowing where to begin and trying to figure the best way to lead into it. Over-thinking what you will say to Lisa on serious matters and always hesitating is another of your problems with your relationship with her. Fortunately, this time Eva takes the lead and does a great job of putting the magical mumbo-jumbo into friendly girl-speak so Lisa nods and smiles quickly understanding. If you hadn't known, you'd swear it was really Eva. Of course, she doesn't mention that she is Keith underneath or Jeremy is Caleb or that you've turned Seth to stone or how many puppets you have out imitating yourselves.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah," you finally add trying to get in on some of the glory. "It all started when Blackwell wanted the book back."<br/>
<br/>
"By the way, where is our host?" Eva  throws out.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, now that we know where we stand with our stories, we probably should find out what the professor is up to and put some sort of end to it." you say getting up and heading to the corner where you'd left him.<br/>
<br/>
As you approached the bound naked body, you turned and said, "Oh, right. Someone needs to get another robe or me some clothes. I don't think we want to stare at his bare body during the interrogation."<br/>
<br/>
"Nor yours!" Eva adds as she jumps up and dashes upstairs.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121111221
author_id: wordsmitty
title: What now ?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So children, it seems you have been very busy and accumulated a lot of toys. I'm actually impressed at your success so far." Blackwell appears unphased and still as arrogant as ever. Although he promises not to try anything, just in case you keep his hands tied and fasten one ankle to the leg of the big desk chair he demanded you put him in. His demeanor throughout is as if he is in charge holding a class, not that he is a prisoner.<br/>
<br/>
"Don't talk down to us, cocksucker. Consider your position." Jeremy snarls at him in true Richards style.<br/>
<br/>
"If you insist using such vulgarity, how am I to react otherwise to such immaturity?"<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy leaps to his feet and almost has Blackwell by the neck before you stop him, pushing him back to his seat.<br/>
<br/>
"You should be impressed. At least we didn't kill anyone on the way." you snip implying Lucy's demise.<br/>
<br/>
"I have not killed anyone either, but can I assume that you have, ah ..., hardened at least one acquaintance?" His tone is pompous, almost righteous as he motions and looks over at the golem.<br/>
<br/>
"What about Lucy Vredenburg? Don't tell us you didn't have anything to do with that?" you reply avoiding his question.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, Ms. Vredenburg. That accident was very unfortunate." His tone is too calm, almost cheerful as he quickly glances down and coughs trying to hide a smile that crept upon his face. "She left here in a rush to collect some important items," he continued looking back up slowly with another cough, then adamantly proclaims, "But I had absolutely nothing to do with what happened with the car."<br/>
<br/>
"Look you mother fucker, we know that you had a mask of her and were using it, so you had to get rid of her." Jeremy yells at him.<br/>
<br/>
"Please. Watch you language. There are ladies present."<br/>
<br/>
"Listen you overstuffed bastard, we're not some fucking Victorian ..." Eva starts but you wave her off and interrupt turning the conversation back to why he is impressed.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, we have had a good deal of success with the book and spells. Quite easy to follow this cookbook."<br/>
<br/>
"Cookbook!" he scoffs then virtually spits the rest with obvious disdain. "You have no idea of the real power or danger or meaning behind what you are doing. This is serious magic, and there are repercussions and consequences of your actions. This is real, and it impacts your mind and being far beyond what you can perceive. It's possibilities are staggering, and its pitfalls - even more so."<br/>
<br/>
He takes a few deep breaths while everyone just sits there stunned by his outburst, then he calmly asks, "So, what plans do you kiddies have now? Now that the big, bad professor is so humbled before you?"<br/>
<br/>
It wasn't until that point that anyone had considered what you would do once you caught and stopped Blackwell. Even coming here on the attack was still a defensive move. Everything you had done with the masks had been to that goal. You have no idea what to do with him or what you are going to do with all the people's lives you have taken over. In your rush, you haven't even used the latest spell to unlock the next page yet. Looking back, you realize that you just kept using the next spell to further your paranoia that Blackwell is out to get you and everyone close to you. It drove you on without much thinking.<br/>
<br/>
The room remains silent for some time until Blackwell states the obvious.<br/>
<br/>
"So, it seems that you don't really have any idea of what to do with me let alone the book or the knowledge that you've gained."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah! Well maybe we just take your dumb fucking ass and toss it down stairs. There's a plan for you." Caleb let out with another Richards-esque torrent.<br/>
<br/>
"Such language again." Then after a short pause. "Let me suggest that maybe we should join forces."<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck would we do that?" he snipped again.<br/>
<br/>
"Resources, knowledge, and maturity. Rather than just playing as you've been doing, I can explain the real meaning and effects, as well as what you need to watch and avoid. Plus the cost of materials is not insignificant. I dare to consider what you may have done to obtain those so far."<br/>
<br/>
"We have the book and enough materials for our needs. I really don't see why we should include, let alone, <i>trust</i> you." you flatly state.<br/>
<br/>
"My dear boy - and I mean that literally - there are many things about working magic that are dangerous. The slightest misstep and one of your friends could easily be trapped, or even worse. The masks themselves can gain control if you aren't careful and wear too long. And do you really want to blunder along scraping or appropriating as you go?"<br/>
<br/>
You know your face has already betrayed the facts that one person, Seth Javits, has been turned to stone and you're stealing money from those you now control. You shrug off his comment and reply, "We've done well enough so far."<br/>
<br/>
"True. True. Quite well indeed. Almost scary one might say that no one has gotten hurt or turned up with unexplainable amnesia." He raises an eyebrow and scans the room before continuing. "Without judicious planning, magic can be addictive to never ending changes of identities that leaves behind many buried souls. Your own self may be overwhelmed and confused by multiple personalities used. It could result in an action that you actually wouldn't take yourself, but the magic has perverted your mind. You would be well to let me guide you before you get in any further over your heads."<br/>
<br/>
Eva and Lisa are nodding to his entreaties and even Caleb has calmed now giving you an I-told-you-so stare, but no one so much as voices a comment. It's your call.<br/>
<br/>
You don't know how much Blackwell may know about your progress in the book, and you aren't sure how far he got either but at least as far as you with making a golemized mask, since that was what he turned Lisa's into to put on you. You hadn't even taken the time to unlock the next spell with the one you made of Keith and put on Eva since you were so fired up to switch people around to fool and foil Blackwell.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Am I getting too caught up in the masquerades rather than finding a useful purpose or plan? So I foiled Blackwell, just barely. Is it time to form a new group adding Lisa and Blackwell? If not, how would I exclude them or keep them quiet? Even if I make Blackwell a golem to keep silent, I can't do that to Lisa .</i>"<br/>
<br/>
As Blackwell let the two clocks ticking out of synch annoy your thoughts, a distant door was heard opening and closing.<br/>
<br/>
"Professor. Professor, I got it. All of it!" comes a familiar voice from down the hall and getting closer.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, as Richards, gets up and stands behind the door just before it swings open.<br/>
<br/>
"Here we are all delivered - as - re - quest - ed."<br/>
<br/>
His joyous expression and voice trails off as he sees you sitting to one side of the room. He is holding the <i>Libras</i>. He looks around and sees Eva and Lisa, then jumps with a start as Richards closes the door behind him and relieves him of the book.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111211112211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Undercover agents and a new confederation
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Blackwell is the first to speak, obviously not surprised by the entrance.<br/>
<br/>
"Opportune timing, my dear boy. We were just getting to what to do about the book and our relationship."<br/>
<br/>
Standing before all is Will Prescott looking a little bewildered if not mostly afraid at the gathering he is now in the midst. Obviously, it's the mask Blackwell made of you, and passed to someone or something to use your knowledge and go pick up the book and all your masks and materials which it seems to have done.<br/>
<br/>
Turning to you, Blackwell suggests, "Perhaps it is time that we all put aside the charades and get down to a serious agreement."<br/>
<br/>
Richards has put the book on the desk and now turns to the Will he just took it from. "Shall I rip its face off?" he growls menacingly.<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, no need to get violent," it says as it backpedals raising a hand to its forehead. In another few seconds, Will no longer stands before you.<br/>
<br/>
"L-L-L-Lucy?" Eva stutters as Lisa gasps, and you become open-mouthed in shock.<br/>
<br/>
Jeremy is the only one able to talk as he snarls back at Blackwell, "What morbid trick is this?"<br/>
<br/>
"No trick," Lucy states quietly. "It was, ... a golem with my mask. The accident was a fluke, and now I'm stuck as a nobody unless ... I don't know. I don't really want anyone elses life. I was fine with my own." At this she almost tears as she flops into a chair with a blank look of despair.<br/>
<br/>
You know that anyone who's been head cheerleader and able to control and manipulate everyone has a great ability to fake anything. So, you're not sure if you can believe her, but you obviously have to believe that she is actually still alive. You're also quite concerned since she has used your mask and probably knows more about everything you've done than just where you had stashed the book. If she got a mask off one of them, ...<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. We were using, um, ... a golem to act as Lucy while she was doing some, er ... other work." Blackwell carefully formed his explanation.<br/>
<br/>
"YOU PERVERT!" Eva suddenly shouts with eyes of daggers as she looks around probably for something to throw at or bash Blackwell with.<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell looks shocked, and Lucy quickly comes back to life as they both start taking at once.<br/>
<br/>
"Yuck. No. Never." Lucy shudders. "It was some other research, ... in books."<br/>
"Indeed nothing as you imagine. She was researching, ... in books."<br/>
<br/>
They both seemed to catch each others eye as they finished together. It only lead to more apprehension on your part, but they eventually explained how Lucy had originally tried her usual way to get a passing grade, but Blackwell had persuaded her instead to test the masks he made from the book.  Lucy figured anything except writing papers and began having fun playing, and collecting, other characters as Blackwell tested the spells. She surely was intrigued by the additional power and explained some facts that must have actually come from reading some of the old books in the library. Whether what they did was any less perverted, you didn't care to find out.<br/>
<br/>
"You see, we have gathered a good deal of information on the book and its power," Blackwell excitedly continued gaining momentum and enthusiasm as he spoke. "Not just with the masks, but through other references and knowledge we've, ah ... gotten. I have detailed notes from many sources on the book. It was a great find when I was able to, ... obtain it and a great loss when that assistant made off with it to get a little cash."<br/>
<br/>
"So you have tracked how you played with the book, and that's why we should ..."<br/>
<br/>
"PLAY? Play? One does not play with a book like this. A book whose source is lost in the ancient magic that originated it. Only snippets can be found as it made its way through history. I have spent years tracing it and was able to" he pauses as he considers the right words, "to locate and finally study it to fathom most of its secrets until ... it was taken away." <br/>
<br/>
There is a long pause as if Blackwell is trying to decide what more to let escape as well as the rest of you not wanting to tip your hand. Blackwell then continues more calmly.<br/>
<br/>
"It is by careful exposure to the magic of the book that will allow all of us to become masters of the masks and obtain the power hidden within the book. Is not that what you would like?"<br/>
<br/>
He has made a good point especially since you really need to organize what you're doing. A great many ideas flash in your mind on how to use the masks to better your life. But you don't trust him, so there is only one way you would consider a partnership.<br/>
<br/>
          * * *<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell actually agrees that you will hold all the tools, masks and the Libras and tells you where his things are plus, per his research, that you are the only person who can execute a spell with the book since you currently "own" it. You three maskateers next go off to retrieve things. You and Jeremy/Caleb each decide to take a floor while Eva goes with Lucy to watch her and help check your collection that she grabbed while being you. This leaves Lisa with Blackwell which you figure is OK since he's tied up and she isn't familiar with the masks or materials to know what to look for.<br/>
<br/>
You're starting to leave when you notice that Lisa has spied the mask of her on the floor and picks it up, turning it in her hands.<br/>
<br/>
"It - it has my name and image in it," she marvels softly to herself.<br/>
<br/>
"That's the one I made of you that first night you came over with Lucy." Blackwell says. "It's what caused you to pass out briefly. It won't harm you though, so I hope you'll accept my apology for tricking you like that." Blackwell croons in a almost sincere sounding way.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa looks at him then back at the mask inspecting it ever more closely. You don't really pay attention at this as you head off collecting barely hearing him further reassuring her.<br/>
<br/>
"It won't change you physically since it is of you."<br/>
<br/>
          * * *<br/>
<br/>
Everyone gathers back in the library placing what they gathered on the desk in front of Blackwell. There is a jar of mask sealant, a box of some graveyard dirt, several cans of chemicals and ignition fuel as well as the mask of yourself that Lucy had on, the one of Seth, one of Gordon that Keith had on before he changed to Eva, a second one of Blackwell, a couple mind strips with names you figure are more of Blackwell's students, another mask without a strip that appears like it has three names shimmering in it, and one final golem mask that is dull and has two names floating in it.<br/>
<br/>
"It looks like everything that I had is in the room." Blackwell asserts after scanning the pile on the desk. "I don't think Lucy's mask or that golem will be of further use where they are now."<br/>
<br/>
"And do you think we really believe that?" Jeremy snarls.<br/>
<br/>
Before Blackwell can continue, you motion to Jeremy to put everything into the box.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to bring me a list of all you've done so far so I can research a means to unravel the multiple impersonations and, hopefully, get everyone back to normal."<br/>
<br/>
"And why would we ..."<br/>
<br/>
You cut Jeremy off with "We can give you some idea, but I don't think we yet feel the trust in telling you everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Of course, of course. I completely understand. I have acted rather rashly in the past, letting the power of the book drive me beyond my normal self. I do want to apologize again and let ..."<br/>
<br/>
"Save the apologies, Professor." Jeremy snips as he heads out with the loot. "It just doesn't mean much for us right now."<br/>
<br/>
Blackwell looks a little forlorn at this but says no more as everything gets carried out leaving just you, Blackwell and Lisa. You untie him, but he makes no effort to get up. Instead he scoots up to the desk and holds up an old book that you don't remember being there before.<br/>
<br/>
"Take this and read through the second, third, and last chapters tonight, then come back tomorrow. I don't have any classes after two. This will explain quite a bit more, and better coming from the source than from me."<br/>
<br/>
You reluctantly take the book as some homework and turn towards the door, then stop and look over at Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
"We can drop you off at home and talk tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Lisa seems to hesitate until after Blackwell speaks, while you ignore his comment.<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. You two run along and behave yourselves, now."</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112111122111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Relaxing in the aftermath
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>There is little spoken on the way home. You drop Lisa off first, and she tells you to stay in the car when you start to walk her to the door. That sets you into a sour mood since you hoped she might have more feelings for you now. After all she was friendly towards you especially after she told you she and Geoff weren't serious. Maybe she is just tired and confused. Hopefully, nothing else.<br/>
<br/>
Your sulking in the back seems ignored by Caleb and Keith still wearing Jeremy and Eva. She's almost in his lap with his arm dangled over her shoulder. From the mirror you see his hand on her breast.<br/>
<br/>
"So, cutie," Jeremy prods. "What should we do with Prescott? We've saved his sissy scared ass now, and he's already replaced himself with a golem. Seems he's superfluous to our needs. Plus he's watching us like a voyeur and sitting vertical where we should be horizontal."<br/>
<br/>
You fume but just keep quiet looking at the book Blackwell gave you trying to plan what your next move should be. It's important to figure out how to switch Keith and Caleb back and find an explanation for the originals' loss of memories. You don't entirely trust Blackwell. He's proven to be very devious - almost got you, and you aren't sure what side Lucy is on, if either, since you hadn't offered her anything. Still, you have the book and all the makings, and he gave you another to better understand it all.<br/>
<br/>
"Not so hard," Eva suddenly shouts. "These aren't basketballs for you to palm. Where did you learn how to treat a lady anyway?"<br/>
<br/>
There's barely enough light to see as street lamps swing beams through the windows as you pass, but you open the book and look at the title: <i>Metaphysical Reality of Human Composition</i> with a date of 1541 in French - translated in English, 1734. Sounds stupid enough, like something for an English Lit AP class which you avoided just for this type reason.<br/>
<br/>
The book looks much newer than you imagine a two hundred and fifty plus year book should be. Probably fake date just to sell copies. You flip through the old pages to find the second chapter where Blackwell told you to start. The print in places is not just faded but with what seems a double strike. Hard to tell in the constantly moving beams from outside. The pages are not brittle and seem quite flexible for their age. Probably the material used. You recall somewhere that old paper was made from rags or whatever and lasted much longer than the tree pulp used today.<br/>
<br/>
"Same place you learned how to be treated: the back seat that our little mask master currently is occupying."<br/>
<br/>
You're trying to ignore them as much as they are trying to get you to react. It's a stalemate, but each side continues: one actively, the other passively. Which approach is better, irritation or indifference? You look at the book again and notice markings like watermarks as the light flickers off the page. When the car stops, they seem to disappear, only back again when the light moves. It's hard to hold focus. They appear as scrolling images but not sigils like in the <i>Libras</i>. It could just be the movement. You close it and will just have to wait until later.<br/>
<br/>
"Here we are magnificent leader. Your cellar palace awaits."<br/>
<br/>
You don't want to spend the night in the old, musty elementary school basement especially since there's no reason to hide any more. You'd rather call your duplicate and go back to your real life, although you should check out Blackwell's mask collection to see what he may have been up to.<br/>
<br/>
"Dude, you getting out? We can make better use of that spot." Jeremy (Caleb) calls back at you.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> can make better use but not with me." Eva (Keith) tells him. "I need to get home before my parents ground me."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. Yeah" you say wearily. "Help me get this stuff hidden away."<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
It feels a bit strange to be yourself, in your own home, and with your family. You've been masquerading so much that it's actually foreign even with the memories from the mask that was substituting. You sent the golem home as Javits, and are now no longer consumed with who to replace next or how to get them or even about making another mask or getting to the next spell in the book.<br/>
<br/>
It's a relief to no longer have that burden or constant worry about Blackwell. After all, you have all his stuff, and he seemed genuine probably because you had mastered more of the book than he and a collaboration would be beneficial. At least that's how you ridded yourself of the past paranoia and slipped comfortably back as yourself.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
"Now remember to set your alarm, Will. You have to be at school over an hour early for that field trip," your mom reminds you during dinner, and it's a good thing. You had forgotten entirely with all the other excitement.<br/>
<br/>
"And don't expect your mother to wake early and get you there on time," your dad firmly adds. "It's your responsibility."<br/>
<br/>
That reminds you of why you wanted to go on the field trip: Lisa. Hopefully, this rescue from Blackwell should be just the thing to get her back during the trip. So you drop the stupid comeback to your dad replacing with, "Yes, Dad. I know."<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe you'll meet some of your cousins," your mom continues - another thing about the trip, that some of her distant relatives live there and are probably about your age. "You can invite them to visit, right dear?" she turns to your dad who's noncommittal. "I'd love to get more info for the family tree collection."<br/>
<br/>
"Or maybe you can stay there for the weekend," Robert throws out. "That would be OK, too, wouldn't it, Mom? He could get a lot of information then."<br/>
<br/>
"Umeko's recital is Sunday. He can't miss that," she politely nixes his idea.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm busy Saturday, and I'll not have your mom driving there to pick you up."<br/>
<br/>
"But think of the new family ties he would make if he was there until Sunday evening," Robert keeps trying in order to monopolize Umeko, but you're not about to let him do that.<br/>
<br/>
"I would hate to miss the recital, but maybe I could setup Robert to spend a weekend there with them."<br/>
<br/>
You give him a sideways smirk knowing his fright at the family reunion years back. That makes him turn pale.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we'll have to wait and see about any visits. We stated you had relatives there on the consent form."<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
You flop on the bed having lied to your parents that you had to catch up on some reading and needed not be disturbed. With the field trip, there is no homework, but your dad even told your brother to leave you alone. That felt good. What you are planning is to read the chapters Blackwell gave you. Actually, with Blackwell being a professor, it <i>is</i> a homework assignment.<br/>
<br/>
Before starting, you remember you still need to get Caleb and Keith and the originals they are impersonating back in their right places. Neither Caleb or Keith, or Seth or Eva, will be on the trip. That means another day before you can arrange to switch them back. You're not sure Caleb or Keith will mind, which probably isn't good. It's more complicated the longer it takes since more missing memories have to be explained. Perhaps Blackwell can help with this. Maybe there's a way to just give back some memories from a mask.<br/>
<br/>
Then you think, <i>Why do I have to do it all?</i> With that, you text your partners about your field trip and tell them to get switched back <i>cleanly</i>. "Go see Blackwell for help, but do it." Their reaction is what you figured - they'd rather stay as is waiting for you, especially Keith, the little pervert.<br/>
<br/>
Opening the book now shows it no longer has any ghost lines or images. It looks normal. Perhaps it was just your emotion or the light on the drive that gave a mystical feeling. Hopefully, it's not as dry and boring as its physical condition. But then, the Libra wasn't too much different.<br/>
<br/>
A very familiar tune comes from your phone, one you haven't heard since school started, and for a second you almost ignore it. Then you quickly grab for it.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi, Lisa. What's up?" You try to sound casual and not let your excitement at hearing from her come through.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, ah, ... I was wondering if you, um, still had that book you said could do things."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, yeah. Well, not with me. It's stored away with everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, 'cause I was thinking, maybe, you might be able to explain some things. I'd kinda like to see it."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Maybe, ..." <i>Oh, crap,</i> you think. <i>There's no way I can get out after telling Mom and Dad I had to study and also get up early for the field trip.</i> "How about this weekend? Maybe we can get together for a while."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," she replies sounding very disappointed.<br/>
<br/>
It's not like you haven't snuck out before without being caught - most of the time. Of course, you can't take your truck because your parents would hear you start it. Walking to the school basement wouldn't take too long, but Lisa is over a mile further. You'll be exhausted, and not the way you want.<br/>
<br/>
But this is your chance, if she can get a car and meet you at the club house. You should just ask, explain, or lie. Take the initiative and meet her instead of worrying about all the things that could happen that would be bad. Isn't having no initiative why she gave up on you?<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121111221112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: The wheels on the bus go round and round
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You’re only three sentences in, and your head already hurts. You should have guessed it wouldn't be simple when it started out explaining the reader needs to first comprehend the “apprehension and ordering of representations of objects” and that this book will enlighten one on “the ultimate nature of reality, being, and the world.” Of course, these three sentences were also almost a whole paragraph each, but you could handle that. It was all the big, doctorate-level words that stymied you, then finding definitions via the Internet that involved theoretical philosophies from Plato to Immanuel Kant.<br/>
<br/>
Now you’re wishing that you didn't turn down Lisa. You could have been snuggling up together with the magic book, impressing her with mystic designs and ingredients, explaining how you don’t really know how it works, just make and use stuff. Perhaps not the best for a hero. But she couldn't drive over anyway, and when you mentioned Blackwell told you to read this book, she backed off entirely saying this weekend is fine.<br/>
<br/>
Back to the book you go, now at the computer to search the next big word or phrase. Soon, though, it gets simpler, or you get smarter, as sentences shorten and use common words, mostly. It’s still metaphysical mumbo jumbo, but it helps you grasp some basics of spells.<br/>
<br/>
It seems the human, and perhaps most living objects, can be defined by four main constituents: <i>imago</i> or what you figure is the stuff we interact with like physical appearance and memories; <i>substantia</i> which you interpret as the building foundation that everything rests on; <i>essentia</i> seems to be what it sounds like – essence of oneself that distinguishes you, and there’s a limited amount; and finally <i>anima</i> is like one’s consciousness beyond memories and skills that makes you that unique person. The book only describes these in theory but hints that the right tools could separate a person into these pieces and reassemble, possibly mixing and matching.<br/>
<br/>
It's after one before you struggle through it, now back on your bed, and let the book fall in your lap as you yawn and close your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
<i>anima – essentia – substantia – imago</i>  Could human beings really be separated into these? Obviously, the <i>Libra</i> describes various methods, those tools, that exploit them. The masks have a power to copy someone's physical and mental likeness and alter another person. That golem thing is basically a shell controlled from the essence of someone. How far can this be taken in the yet to be unlocked pages?<br/>
<br/>
A darkening haze engulfs all as you drift into slumber.  Coalescing from the void of dark unconscious, a gray disk hovers in the distance, gradually growing bigger and brighter until its white surface reveals it as the moon. The cool light bouncing from it draws you into a protective warmth until it shimmers silver and, for an instant, reflects your visage then shatters carrying away into the vast darkness your face, sloshing pale fluid, some grayish matter, and sparkling flashes in separate pieces.<br/>
<br/>
Floating comfortably and happy in a gentle sway like a ship in mild seas, sensations of joy pulse with the motion warming your body more and more. The movement continually strengthens rocking harder as your breathing hastens. Something heavy leans onto your stomach and down between your legs, now thrusting into you so smooth and natural that you sigh enjoying each cycle.<br/>
<br/>
A sudden jolt interrupts the rhythm forcing you to gasp and wrap your legs tightly around the figure. Another shot, and your arms grab it as you cry out. Again, and your fingers dig into the back of the body joined with yours while you hiss with elation pressing upwards for more. Finally the motion sears a spot that tightens your legs' hold forcing penetration deep against your core. Unable to retreat, it throbs within. Your muscles tense constricting the joining inside as well as out finally squeezing your lungs to erupt a scream of pure bliss. Your mind shutters blanking all but intense ecstasy and contentment. <br/>
<br/>
Far back in your mind's depths, there’s a niggling, “This isn't right. I'm not a girl,” but it’s obscured by the wonderful feeling. This body seems identical to your skinny build except for the change in sex, longer hair and small mounds with hard nubs crushed on your chest – except, it doesn't feel like there was a change. Your perceptions hold it as always was and is.<br/>
<br/>
Ever so slowly, consciousness drifts forward still in nirvana. That niggling wonders who you are and who you're with, even as your senses and emotions know, but don't reveal. Eyes and muscles heavy with exhaustion and joy are not inclined to open but gradually relax when the figure pulls its head from alongside yours. Twinkling through your happiness, a silhouette hazily appears, but there is no time to focus as his lips crush yours, and you suck his tongue in while sending yours into his mouth. It's all so perfect, and you drift into a fog.<br/>
<br/>
A glowing moon fades in and out until you're dropped back into your bed, alone. There's light, and you find yourself with your hand in your crotch against morning wood. A glance to the side shows it's ten minutes before the alarm. For half a minute you feel too weak to move then toss the covers aside and take a warm shower to get relief.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *	<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Will. Mind if I sit here?”<br/>
<br/>
It's Cassie Harper – Chatterbox Cassie, a non-ending verbalizing humanoid of infinite word assemblage loosely connected with thoughts. As you scan the others filing down the aisle of the bus, she is the best of what is left especially with Lester Brown just hopping on scanning for a victim.<br/>
<br/>
“I guess. I'm probably going to just sleep, though,” you mumble hoping she'd get the drift and be quiet.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, Will. I'm glad you had a seat 'cause the other options look pretty iffy,” she chirps reaching into her backpack to pull a notebook and pens before tossing it and her purse in the overhead. However, she rattles on. “Yeah, it <i>is</i> awful early, so I understand the need to rest. I almost missed the alarm this morning wondering why it went off so early until I remembered, so I rushed here worried 'cause you want to get a seat with someone that's nice and considerate - and I've always considered you that, not that some others aren't, but they can often wear on your nerves on a long ride, if you know what I mean? I mean I ...” She plops into the seat and then stops when she sees you yawn, only to rapidly put more words into flight. “Oh, yeah, Sorry. I promise to be good - quiet, that is. I've got some writing to do; been working on a story, though it’s gotten twisted with confusing impersonations that ...”<br/>
<br/>
Eventually, her babbling ceases, and she writes with only an occasional mumble to herself. You lean your head against the wall and close your eyes but are never able to get comfortable enough to sleep. Still you keep your eyes closed knowing otherwise would probably turn her back on.<br/>
<br/>
The trip is to be a mix of history, sociology and music. To you it was a chance to be with Lisa; but, unfortunately, Geoff Mansfield signed on, and she is nestled next to him even after you saved her from a fate of – who knows what. Hopefully, she'll still come round to see you as her true knight, and things will again be like last summer.<br/>
<br/>
To put thinking of her aside, you regard last evening’s reading applied to the <i>Libra Persona’s</i> strange diagrams and instructions. In fact, as you ponder the “sigils” - those special, intricate designs that set the magic in action, you see patterns within patterns like pieces of a puzzle. You consider drawing some, but that also would open a door for Cassie.<br/>
<br/>
Last night's dream resurfaces, and you see similarities with what you read: your parts being separated, landing in some girl. Maybe it’s just frustration with Lisa and pretending you’re her doing what she should have done in gratitude. That makes sense until you think of the girl's lithe body, not Lisa’s voluptuous form. You turn to the window to hide opening your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a boring morning ride heading easily against the light rush hour traffic before traveling into the valley toward the Cathcarts. Color dissipated weeks before; the trees, now barren. There’s a dismal overcast though a few pale blue patches peek through. The bus weaves round the hills lulling the half-awake back to slumber while a perky few chat, quietly after being told to keep it down by those not drowning them out with iPods. Others use their time to read or scribble like Cassie. You covertly watch her creating a story thankful it's silent and not rambling torrents.<br/>
<br/>
Eight years ago, there was a reunion your family attended out here. You don't remember much except the dreariness and strange people. You just thought it odd, but Robert was really affected even claiming to have seen grotesque figures. No one believed him, but he had nightmares for weeks afterward.<br/>
<br/>
The crux of this trip, educationally, is to see living history including a unique church and its organ built by someone everyone should know to graduate enlightened. The teachers sacrificed the annual senior pilgrimage to the Saratoga Falls Museum of Useless Miscellanea, as its known from fifth and ninth grade trips. At least this is different going to Cuthbert.<br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111211112211121
author_id: wordsmitty
title: The introductions begin
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“OK, everyone,” Walberg’s voice blasts through the bus’s PA jerking you awake. A weight lifts from your shoulder, and you see Cassie stretching and yawning. How you two fell asleep leaning against each other, you don’t remember, but there’s no time to contemplate as Walberg thunders from the overhead speakers.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re arriving in the town and will take a short break before the tour. There’s facilities when we disembark. And I don’t want anyone wandering off. There will be a head count in fifteen.” <br/>
<br/>
Out the window, some beaten down houses pass, little more than shacks surrounded by discarded and rusting equipment and miscellaneous junk. Quickly there’s better two-story houses, still weathered and in need of paint, but with mostly clear yards and sometimes a weathered picket or rail fence needing attention. Intersecting streets run off with randomly spaced houses disappearing in the skeletal trees.<br/>
<br/>
Sidewalks appear along a small collection of buildings, mostly non-descript brick in dull browns and dusty reds. Compared to the dreary landscape of leafless trees and hibernating grass, it’s an oasis even in the grayish light. There is a small grocery, a hardware store, a bank, several shops including a barber and salon, even a tiny US Post Office looking older and more unkempt than the others. One building sticks out with faded, peeling color under a fish-shaped sign dangling lopsided, “Zach’s Fish Fry.” <br/>
<br/>
On the other side of the street is a small park with a colorless, sun-bleached bandstand gazebo. Beyond through the barren trees are other buildings and a steeple which must be the all important church. The bus slows at a large, ochre, brick building with wide stairs of cut stone leading to double doors under a small dirty-white portico. A rusty sign on the side points “Jail” in the rear. Next door is a small building where wires from all the telephone poles terminate. A few cars are parked around, but there’s no people to be seen except four waiting by the flagpole in front.<br/>
<br/>
As the bus stops, Walberg announces, “And here we are. Let’s get moving. There’s a lot to cover today.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hey! My phone doesn't work here,” a girl calls out up front.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah.  I haven't gotten reception for twenty minutes. What gives?” asks another.<br/>
<br/>
“Cuthbert is the perfect place to keep your full attention on topic since it’s in the cell-tower void. Sorry, kids. Put them away since they'll be no calling, texting, or email while here.”<br/>
<br/>
Out of the grumbling, Lester shouts, “What about an emergency?”<br/>
<br/>
“There is land line service that can be used, but hopefully,” he stresses then threatens, “no one <i>will create</i> anything necessary. Besides, all this was on the consent form, so no more discussion. Come on now.”<br/>
<br/>
Everyone piles out into the bitter air – it smells clean and fresh, unlike the city – and assembles at the steps where Walberg and the Westside teachers stand with the other four: two adults and two about your age. One is a tall, sturdy built guy with strong, dark facial features and big hands. He looks like he does lots of physical labor and could give Gordon Black a tough time in an encounter. The other is a skinny girl whose face is pale and gaunt, but her features are pleasant and seem familiar, but you can’t place them.<br/>
<br/>
“Gather round,” Walberg commands.<br/>
<br/>
The teachers from Westside are Mrs. Heinz, the music teacher and orchestra conductor - a middle-aged woman whose previous, slender body is now pudgy and sagging along with lines in her face. She still wears her brown hair with bangs and pulls it to the sides in two barrettes so it drapes her neck and never falls to obscure music. Mr. Hartford teaches history, one of the youngsters who took over a couple years ago when there was a mass retirement. You've never had him, but everyone seems to like him. They’re both quiet and defer to the boisterous, overbearing – at least in your opinion – Walberg, your social studies teacher.<br/>
<br/>
The two Cuthbert adults are quite a contrast. The lady is a graying, round figure with curly brown hair that puffs out her head. He’s thin as a rail with a long face, crooked eyebrow and nose, and balding. Standing together looks like the number ten or maybe eighteen.<br/>
<br/>
“After break, meet inside before Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Doyle’s tour. You’ll follow their directions just as if they were one of us,” Walberg  explains. The last gets a few snorts from the crowd. “Gentlemen, you can follow Mr. Shabbleman, Will Shabbleman, to the men’s room. Girls, please follow Rosalie Stewart. If you’re not using, wait inside. Everyone be there in fifteen.”<br/>
<br/>
Will and Rosalie start off in different directions; she leads a procession inside while Will heads round the building toward the Jail. The adults remain talking.<br/>
<br/>
You follow Will along with the other guys through a door in the basement marked “Sherriff.”  He points to a room where there are several urinals and stalls - old, but clean. It reeks of bleach, probably from a scrub down for your arrival.<br/>
<br/>
“Place don’t get used since we've no crime here,” Will explains. “My uncle’s Sherriff. Spends most his time target practicing.” He pauses, then adds a punch line, “Criminals either skedaddle or sleep in a box.” Only Lester snickers.<br/>
<br/>
As you rejoin the group on the main level, everyone is milling about the open floor. Some tables and chairs are on one side; a stairway up, on the other. However, your eyes are drawn to the Cuthbert girl. She’s being ignored by all except Kim Walsh probably performing her “duty” being Student Council President. Kim’s height, slender form and pale complexion are almost a match for the girl. Red hair and newer clothes with more color make it seem that Kim’s just a colorized version. When she walks away, your gaze remains fixed on the girl. She looks lost and lonely, almost sad.<br/>
<br/>
<i>What was her name? Rosalie. Stewart,</i> you recall.<br/>
<br/>
Your staring does not go unnoticed, as Will clamps a hand on your shoulder. “That Rosalie’s my betrothed, so don’t go getting no ideas.”<br/>
<br/>
“N-no. It’s not that. My Mom’s grandmother was Stewart, and we were up here for a reunion years ago. I just …”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, so you’re that flatlander relative they said would be on this. Got same name as me, Will, right?”<br/>
<br/>
“Ah, yeah. Will Prescott,” you say briefly wondering how he knew.<br/>
<br/>
He sticks out his hand. “Good to meet you, Will.” His grip is an iron vice, and his pumping just short of pulling off your arm. “I’m sure Rosalie will want to meet you, too.”<br/>
<br/>
Before you can go over, Walberg gathers the group for a short history of Cuthbert by your hosts. Several families - Shabbleman, Stewart, Johnson, and Gibson - settled in the area a couple hundred years back after being ostracized where they previously lived. Eventually, a town grew, but unfortunately, about seventy years ago an explosion and fire, possibly a faulty furnace, took out half the business section and the original church. The brick buildings are replacements, and most of the bricks were made from a clay deposit about three miles from town. The church was rebuilt around the organ salvaged from the catastrophe.<br/>
<br/>
With no questions, everyone dons their coats and follows the two Cuthbert leaders round the downtown. Walberg and Heinz trail making sure no one wanders off. Hartford remains chatting with the bus driver. Cassie manages to end up walking next to you, amazingly just listening with few words of her own.<br/>
<br/>
After rounding the park and getting a closer look at the church – it’s a rather grotesque piece of masonry, many of the bricks of varying sizes and shapes giving it a dark, ominous appearance - Walberg announces lunch served in the town hall and herds the students that way although the chill has them moving quickly.<br/>
<br/>
“Will,” Will Shabbleman calls motioning you to hold back. You push Cassie ahead thankful to turn round since the flood gates had opened with her again. “This is our cousin, Will Prescott, Rosalie,” he offers as you draw up.<br/>
<br/>
“Very nice to meet you, Will,” she forces almost softer than the rustling leaves. Even if her demeanor is very reserved, her smile is bright and welcoming.<br/>
<br/>
“Nice to meet you, too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, I better go watch the jail if anyone needs it,” Will tells you striding off leaving you and Rosalie alone well behind everyone else.<br/>
<br/>
“So, you’re part Stewart?” she asks tentatively.<br/>
<br/>
“Part Stewart, part Martin, and part Prescott,” you reply cheerfully trying to improve the mood.<br/>
<br/>
Just then a big, dark car pulls up beside you. Rosalie looks over at the driver, an old gray-haired woman with a crooked smile and deep-set eyes. Then she reaches out taking your hand.<br/>
<br/>
“Come have lunch with us at the Big House. It’ll be better food than the meal they fixed,” she pleads as much as asks. “Will will explain if anyone asks. You’re family after all.” She smiles very enticingly and with a slight tremble in her hand pulls you to the car door and opens it.<br/>
<br/>
You've no real interest in watching Geoff and Lisa or get button-holed by Cassie, or worse, Lester. Walberg might give you grief, but they know you have relatives here. Plus it would make your mom happy that you connected. However, this strange place, the old woman, the car, and Rosalie’s actions seem a bit creepy. Suddenly, you get a flashback about Robert’s tale.<br/>
<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112111122111211
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Lunch at the Big House
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“Thank you, Will. We rarely get anyone here from outside,” Rosalie beams happily. "Especially relatives."<br/>
<br/>
It's such a change from before you let her pull you into the car when she had seemed so alone and even frightened. She's still holding onto one of your hands as if you might try to escape, but it's relaxed and no longer trembling. It feels warm and nice, and so do you for brightening her. It's that feeling like last summer with Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
“So, tell me about yourself, your family, school, friends.” She pauses then asks softly, “Do you have a girlfriend? I saw that one girl with you.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile almost laughing. “No. No girlfriend. She's just a classmate who latches on and likes to talk. But I hear you're engaged to Will.”<br/>
<br/>
Her smile vanishes, and she looks down. “We were promised since we became ten.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, that must have been about the time my family was here for a reunion. I don't remember you or Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was, ah, not feeling well back then. Will was probably working out on the farm. But,” she looks into your eyes with a smile. “Tell me about you.”<br/>
<br/>
In the five minutes it takes to get to the destination, you exchange basic information about your mom, dad, brother, aunt and uncle and adopted cousin Umeko, plus school, and Saratoga Falls in general. She tells you everyone in Cuthbert is sort of home schooled as there's no formal school with so few kids of the same age to form a class, but there's several elders that teach. She's an only child; raised by her aunts and Grandmother. Her parents both died or left when she was too young to remember, although she is rather vague on that. You don't pursue it or any relative since she says you'll get a chance to meet most.<br/>
<br/>
The big surprise is when the car stops, and she tells you her birth date.<br/>
<br/>
“That's mine, too,” you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
“What a coincidence,” she replies getting out of the car and pulling you toward the Big House.<br/>
<br/>
Looking up, you know why it's called the Big House. It's bigger than any you've seen in Cuthbert even if not big by your standards. It has three floors, the third just two dormers coming through the roof like eyes. No other house, or building for that matter, is over two. It has a wide front porch set with a couple chairs, a rocker, and a swing. A big front door and windows open onto it. The yard is neat and well maintained.  It would be a grand house if it wasn't for its ghostly tone of gray or the gingerbread under the eves that all together reminds you of those houses in horror movies.<br/>
<br/>
“Aunt Sarah. I've brought a guest for lunch. A cousin from Saratoga Falls,” she calls out as she leads inside pulling you along.<br/>
<br/>
The foyer is decorated right out of early twentieth century with some black and white family photos on the walls and various, perhaps odd might be a better word, collection of clay items on a small table. Ahead is a stairway leading to the second floor, and beside it a hallway into the house. You glimpse into the room to the right, which appears to be a formal parlor.<br/>
<br/>
It all appears drained of any color, if it ever had. In fact, the inside radiates cold even though you feel warm and comfortable removing your coat. Rosalie shrugs off hers and hangs it on an ancient hall tree having a foggy-edged old mirror and bench. Her beige sweater drapes lifeless on her almost like it is just an extension of her hair covering her body. She then takes your coat to add next to hers as a door opens at the far end of the hall. A small woman in a faded patterned dress makes quick steps towards you wringing her hands. Her smile barely registers in an otherwise solemn and bony face under dusty brown hair. <br/>
<br/>
“My such a handsome young man,” she offers with surprise as if she's rarely seen one, and you know you aren't that good looking. “I'm so pleased to meet you, Master Prescott,” she adds reaching out. “We're glad you could join us. I hope our food is good enough for you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Please, just call me Will, ah? … Aunt Sarah,” you finish when neither offer a last name. A haunting blush comes over her face as you shake a limp and coarse hand. “I'm sure whatever you have will be delicious.” You don't notice that Rosalie never introduced you by name.<br/>
<br/>
They lead you off through a formal dining room containing a large, antique china cupboard and sideboard plus a formal table for eight or ten. You haven't time to count as they push a swinging door entering a large kitchen, also early twentieth century. A much smaller table is set for four, and there's several young women, around your age or early twenties, working there. They're all shapes and sizes. One tall thin girl is hunched over with her head at angle, another has very short arms and legs from a rotund figure, the third is almost average except for her small head with large ears sticking through her hair.<br/>
<br/>
“Please, take a seat,” Rosalie insists waving her pale, thin arm at the table as she goes to help Aunt Sarah with the food. Two women scatter out other doors leaving the tall one who keeps her face turned away while she moves here and there assembling various items and cooking things on the stove.<br/>
<br/>
“So how's the trip here?” Aunt Sarah asks after a short but uncomfortable silence.<br/>
<br/>
“I slept most of the way,” you admit. No one laughs and quiet returns.<br/>
<br/>
“What of Cuthbert so far?”<br/>
<br/>
“Interesting” is the only word you can think. Realizing you're the one who needs to fill the silence, you add, “Everything is so fast and bright back home.” Thinking that could be an insult, you explain quickly, “It's so nice and peaceful here, and it's more than just the last twenty years that we have. It seems very homey.”<br/>
<br/>
“With such a small place, we're pretty much family, so it is like a home,” Aunt Sarah offers bringing over a plate of stew over rice and some vegetables plus a glass of water which she places in front of you. Rosalie brings over two plates for her and Aunt Sarah. “You're family, too,” she continues drawing your glance into her eyes. They're framed with sad, downward wrinkles, but the pupils twinkle as she smiles and finishes, “Maybe that's why it seems homey. Cuthbert is your home, too.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you,” you acknowledge for the food.<br/>
<br/>
During the meal, which is very good and filling though you can't tell what meat is in it, you recount much which you'd already told Rosalie about yourself. You mention how your mom has been tracing your family lineage, and Aunt Sarah starts off on when some of the Martins left town soon after the “big fire” and relates a couple generations back even giving birth dates and deaths. Both the former and latter seemed grouped in fall and spring respectively.<br/>
<br/>
“I best not keep rambling history,” she says with a look of concern once she reached the Stewarts. <br/>
<br/>
“Will and I have the same birthday. Isn't that interesting?” Rosalie then blurts.<br/>
<br/>
Aunt Sarah looks surprised and turns more pale, if that's possible, then smiles and says, “I better take Grandmother's tray to her.” She looks back at the counter where the tall girl has just placed a cup and pot of tea or coffee. As Aunt Sarah gets up, she adds, “She's working right now in her study but would like to meet you before you leave today, William. Please do stop back later.”<br/>
<br/>
“Grandmother is the matriarch of the town, so she has lots to take care of,” Rosalie tells you matter-of-factly looking down either showing respect or, perhaps, a hint of fear.<br/>
<br/>
You try to help clear the table but are quickly relieved of the dishes by the tall girl. As she takes the dishes, you watch her awkwardly until Rosalie introduces her. She has a flat face, bulbous nose, and large, wide eyes that are two different colors - one dark brown and the other beige - almost white. At close view you can tell that her hair is in black and brown patches though it blends together well from the distance you saw her before.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Will, this is Holly.” Holly just nods and turns away as Rosalie takes your hand. <br/>
<br/>
 “An honor meeting you, William. I expect to be seeing a lot more of you,” Aunt Sarah calls.<br/>
<br/>
“Nice to meet you, too, Aunt Sarah,” you get out before Rosalie pulls you back into the foyer.<br/>
<br/>
“I hope you can come back later and visit before you leave. You really do need to meet Grandmother.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don't know what the schedule is, but if I can.” As you speak, you manage to bump the small table, and a couple of the odd, clay  figurines clink into each other and topple over. “Oh. I'm so sorry,” you say as you catch one.<br/>
<br/>
“It's OK,” she explains resetting the figures while you ponder over the one in your hand, how strange and crude it is, not a typical decoration but it fits the other oddities and the blandness of the room.<br/>
<br/>
“These are gifts that each family member makes, usually when little, and presents to Grandmother,” she tells you taking the figure and placing it back on the table. “I bet you have time to make one,” she suddenly adds looking over at an antique pendulum wall clock. “There's a work shed out back where the makings are kept.”<br/>
<br/>
Making some childish thing seems rather odd especially at your age, and you haven't even met Grandmother. You're a little concerned to get back before they finish their lunch so you don't get into trouble. However, Rosalie is so happy that it's infectious, and it wouldn't hurt and be a fun diversion. You don't want to make her sad again by turning her down.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121111221112111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Revelations in the church
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>She hands you your coat and grabs hers heading out the door. You don't give a second thought as you follow. It's better to be away from the pack. Plus being with Rosalie makes you happy even knowing she has a boyfriend that could probably snap you in half.<br/>
<br/>
In the shed she pulls out a can and struggles to get the lid off. Gallantly, you twist it open, and she has you take a handful of clay.<br/>
<br/>
“Just make anything you want to remind Grandmother of you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Like an image of me?”<br/>
<br/>
“Or a thing. Some make a bell, a dish, a house, or just a shape.”<br/>
<br/>
First thing to jump to mind is a mask, and that would be simple. You flatten the clay to an oval then carve through some eyes, nose and mouth with a small knife there. There's a trowel that you place it over so it curves.<br/>
<br/>
“A mask,” you say as you turn to her. She's now holding the knife coming at you and grabs your hand. “What are you …”<br/>
<br/>
“It needs to be sealed with your blood.” You look back shocked and holding back. “Oh, I'm sorry, Will. I should have explained. We all put some in them. It's a show of respect.” She looks sad when you still don't let her move your hand over the mask. “I guess you don't have to being a flatlander and all.”<br/>
<br/>
“No. That's alright,” you relent. “After all, I am family, and I should.”<br/>
<br/>
Your response and smile brightens her face before she pokes your thumb making you flinch, then you watch as she squeezes a few drops on your mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Suck it clean,” she directs as she opens a box with adhesive strips then applies one to your thumb. “There. We'll let it dry, and you can present to Grandmother later.”<br/>
<br/>
* * * *	<br/>
<br/>
Even though it's brighter outside, it feels even colder walking toward the flagpole. A breeze comes and goes from different directions as if it were a lost spirit buzzing round for attention. It rustles some dry leaves, and creaking drifts forward followed by the chatter of voices. As the students migrate to the flag pole and wait for the adults, Lester spins you around.<br/>
<br/>
“So, we wondered what you were up to, Prescott. You have a nice nooner with the mountain girl?” he smirks. You just ignore him, but he moves over to Rosalie. “What say you join me in the jail for some criminal activity,” he leers putting his arm around her. She wrinkles her nose and shrugs his arm off.<br/>
<br/>
You want to push him away but don't get the chance even if you could muster the courage and accept the repercussions that will happen back at school. Suddenly he seems to jump backward, and Will Shabbleman materializes between him and Rosalie. You expect Will to crush him, but he just stares until Lester looks down and sulks away like a puppy, tail between his legs.<br/>
<br/>
“Let's make our way back to the church,” Walberg commands oblivious to it all. “And we can see and learn about it before they demonstrate the organ.”<br/>
<br/>
It's a cold walk to the church. The air now bites through your coat as well as stings any unprotected skin, even more so the closer you get, it seems. Cassie catches back up while Will and Rosalie stay at the rear.<br/>
<br/>
“Where'd you go, Will. Someone started saying you had been taken off as a witch's sacrifice to let the rest of us go free, but no one would believe me,” she rattles giving you a big smile.<br/>
<br/>
“Actually, I have distant relatives here, and they were consulting me as on who would be the best to sacrifice,” you stated. “They like solitude and mainly eliminate those who are constantly jabbering,” you tease with a phony evil grin.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I'm glad you're safe and sound, but it doesn't sound too safe for some of the others. I've never known how much the AP group can gossip about anything that isn't their idea of perfect like they've ever known how good different things can be simply because they've always done the same in the same clique without knowing how samenessly boring the same thing can be. But all the same …”  She's either missed your joke or playing it for more, so you force a more sinister snarl. “Are you feeling OK, Will? You're looking a little odd, like a demon or something.” She can't keep a straight face and giggles. You chuckle along.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Johnson begins describing meanings of the odd bricks and church construction holding everyone out front. It's something about reinforcing the spiritual aspects – you don't pay much attention shivering to stay warm. Fortunately, after about five minutes Mr. Doyle nudges her to get her to stop and allow all to go inside. Each footstep thumps or clacks on the plain plank floor, depending on the shoes, and it echoes as if unable to escape as the group goes to take seats in the wooden pews.<br/>
<br/>
As far as you can tell, it's like any small church, very basic - pews, lectern and an alter behind which is an array of pipes that divide the back wall and each side for painted panels. At first it looks odd, like everything else, until Mr. Doyle explains the pipes are part of a Breisiger organ brought damaged from Germany in the 1800's and rebuilt here replacing missing parts. The panels represent religious scenes painted by a Gotlieb von Hildebrant. Mr. Doyle points out symbols within each that have special meaning. The scenes are depictions of Christ's life, crucifixion and resurrection are behind the alter. You're glad the art history teacher didn't come, or they'd be singing a duet boring everyone to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
While he continues, a different connection flashes to mind. It's not just the soul that departs separating from the body, but there are clearly three parts depicted as ghostly angels - only one with a face, the others are sparkling globs - and not just from Jesus but from the two criminals that were executed with him. These mingle and fly above as if up to heaven where God's hands – the face is not shown – greets then pushes them along towards the next painting. Turning to the resurrection, three flow back together into Christ's body, except each piece is depicted slightly different than before.<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and remember what you read last night on <i>imago</i>, <i>substantia</i>, <i>essentia</i>, and <i>anima</i>. When you open them, it is even clearer. Perhaps Blackwell's metaphysical book is really just a religious tome or some atheist's attempt to disprove Christian religion. Or maybe it's nothing, and you're just over-imagining.<br/>
<br/>
Dropping this fanciful inclination, you instead try to untangle the organ pipes that look like maze puzzles. As you stare at their twisting configurations, there's something oddly familiar. It takes a while, but you soon recognize the shapes. They're like the sigils for the spells in the <i>Libra</i>. You look away and then back to convince yourself that you aren't just applying the strange designs to the funky pipes, but that's what they are.<br/>
<br/>
These coincidences are too crazy a notion with both the pipes and the paintings. How could some little hick town in the hills know anything like that? You go back to listening to Mrs. Johnson who has taken over to talk about the organ.<br/>
<br/>
“These pipes were damaged in the great fire and were saved from World War II metal drives then able to be restored through much hard work afterward.”<br/>
<br/>
That leads her off on a side trip about how few from Cuthbert we're allowed to fight in the war and how the families in town struggled for several decades to survive and preserve the town.<br/>
<br/>
“But I'm sure what you really came for was to hear our wonderful organ,” Mr. Doyle again interrupts moving her along.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, yes. It will take a few minutes to get it set up. Need to build pressure,” she explains as she turns and goes through a small door on the left.<br/>
<br/>
There's some creaking and rumbling from the pews as well as somewhere beyond the back wall. A few stretch and move around while the adults converse in the front. You take a deep breath then almost jump when a finger pokes your shoulder. It's Rosalie. She curls her finger motioning you to come probably being quiet to not draw Cassie's attention who's next to you working her story pretending she's taking notes. You slide out quietly to the far side.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you musical?” Rosalie whispers. Your blank stare has her rephrase, “Do you care to hear the organ?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not particularly,” you reply with a shrug.<br/>
<br/>
“Then this is a good time to go have a chat with Grandmother.”<br/>
<br/>
Walberg keeps glancing up to watch the crowd, so you don't move. Actually, you're not sure you want to meet some old woman even if she could give you a complete rundown on the family tree to fourth cousins twice removed or whatever Rosalie is to you.<br/>
<br/>
“What's the matter? You want to meet her, don't you?”<br/>
<br/>
“The teachers are watching. They'll stop us from trying to leave.” Rosalie looks concerned. Her eyes plead making you want not to disappoint.<br/>
<br/>
There's a thunderous shutter and loud hissing from the front that draws everyone's attention. Next a few whistles and fog horn sound that grate on your ears. You reconsider sitting through the next hour of this. It's not like they can test you on what you heard. If there's any discussion, Cassie or someone will fill you in. Another screech has people holding their ears and is the perfect time to make your way out while no one is looking. Just then a few faint, sweet notes carry through the church, and you're drawn by them.<br/>
<br/>
Rosalie squeezes your hand bringing focus back to her. “Come on, before it's too late. Please.”<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 112312222122111211112211121111
author_id: wordsmitty
title: Go meet Grandmother
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Casually, you and Rosalie slip out of the church while everyone remains fixated front on the organ sounds as it's tested. Will is standing outside along with the big car anticipating you. This time Rosalie just opens the door and motions for you to get in then closes it.<br/>
<br/>
“Aren't you coming?” you ask through the open window.<br/>
<br/>
“She doesn't want to see me, just you. Just knock on the front door, and they'll let you in.” She looks around and then speaks so low that you stick your head out to hear. “Just so you aren't shocked when you meet her, she - Grandmother - is, well, …”<br/>
<br/>
“Very fat,” Will inserts while Rosalie was searching for the right word.<br/>
<br/>
“Will!” she gasps shocked drawing back and looking around.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, she is. Very much, and we all know it. She knows it. That doesn't mean I don't respect her. And you'd be wise to respect her, too,” he directs at you.<br/>
<br/>
The car then jerks forward while you look back at them talking until it rounds a corner and they're out of sight. The old woman driving says nothing the whole way. You slowly get out when she stops at the Big House a bit unsure for a moment. After she drives off, you go fretfully up and knock. One of the young women lets you in when you tell her Grandmother wanted to see you. You initially stumble on what to call her since no one told you her name, but you just go with what everyone calls her.<br/>
<br/>
After hanging your coat again, you're ushered into the parlor and motioned to sit in a chair directly opposite a small settee. It's something like Victorian or whatever - you haven't a clue at the name of the style. The whole room is what you picture from a bygone era with it's wallpaper, furnishings and decorations, but it is neat and clean if otherwise devoid of anything but the most muted color. Behind the settee light filters through a bay window that has a raised pull-down shade and sheer lacy curtains draped to the side. A small table's on one side.<br/>
<br/>
Before you scan further, a set of repeated soft “thump-thump” comes from the hallway getting closer. It's only a few seconds before a short but huge woman turns into the double doorway almost filling the entire lower two thirds. You're on your feet before her tiny eyes shoot through the wire-rim glasses to meet yours.<br/>
<br/>
“William Prescott,” she enunciates with forced clarity.<br/>
<br/>
It's not a question, but you answer anyway, “Yes, mam.”<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth draws straight with just a slight part as she eyes you up and down never stopping as she alternates the two canes supporting her as she moves to the settee. Your first thought is that the delicate thing will be crushed under her weight which you can't guess. That she moves at all is astounding, and you find your eyes glued to her.<br/>
<br/>
“You can call me Grandmother. We are family after all,” she commands, and it is a command from the tone even if the voice is reserved. “And sit,” she directs on her drop into the settee which doesn't even groan under her mass.<br/>
<br/>
You do sit and wait feeling a bit uncomfortable and nervous finding yourself holding your hands together between your knees while she leans a cane to one side still keeping her eyes on you.<br/>
<br/>
“You've got good manners, Will'um, to rise and respond with respect to an old woman.”<br/>
<br/>
Old isn't the word that comes to mind. Her face looks ancient or did before she sat, now silhouetted so that you can make out few features, but there's plenty of light for her to observe you. That's what you feel, that she is analyzing you. Her eyes looking through those old spectacles not at but into you.<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, m-, Grandmother.”<br/>
<br/>
“Don't take a statement of fact on proper actions as a compliment, boy.” Her words sear you. “But I do appreciate when one knows respect.”<br/>
<br/>
You want to again say “thank you” but catch it in your throat.<br/>
<br/>
“So,” she pauses several seconds. “You're from the Stewart line.” She pauses again, and your mouth wants to explain but your mind fortunately stops it, otherwise you'd have stomped on her next words. “Sarah has told me what you told her, but,” suddenly her cane swings over incredibly fast but rests lightly on your thigh as she leans forward. “Tell me what you haven't told her.”<br/>
<br/>
There's a slight tingling in your leg that runs quickly through your body and disappears. You figure it's just the shock of her action and take a breath wondering what she wants to know. Normally, you'd be very nervous but feel very relaxed and just start talking.<br/>
<br/>
“When I graduate this year, I haven't decided what to do or what college. Maybe I'll just stay at home and attend Keyserling.”<br/>
<br/>
Just as suddenly as before, she jerks upright glaring at you, her pupils burning.<br/>
<br/>
“That's not a good place,” she spits. “Not for family.”<br/>
<br/>
You shiver at her animosity wondering why but keep it to yourself. You've also had the idea of taking a year off and traveling through …<br/>
<br/>
“Traveling through foreign countries is just being lazy,” she tells you seemingly having read your thoughts. Her tone softens as she relaxes. “Everyone needs a goal in life to pursue.” Again she taps your thigh with her cane. “So this mask you made for me is quite interesting. Never gotten anything like it before.” She pulls the clay mask you made out of a pocket and looks it over with great interest before fixing her eyes to yours again. “What thought did you have for making it?” <br/>
<br/>
Thoughts of the <i>Libra</i>, making and using masks races through your mind, and you feel ready to spill it, but that wasn't what you were thinking at the time.<br/>
<br/>
“It just came to me when Rosalie mentioned some people do faces. I didn't think I could do that but a mask would be something similar, and …” You pause almost embarrassed to admit, but you do. “It was easy.” You try to smile innocently.<br/>
<br/>
Her expression doesn't change for a long time, and you wonder if she thinks you're lazy or what. Finally, she withdraws her cane and puts the little mask in her pocket.<br/>
<br/>
“That's smart. You could have wasted a lot of time which you didn't have, but you respected our tradition. That's good.”<br/>
<br/>
A “thank you” wants to come out, but she starts to get up, and you swallow it. Instead, you quickly rise and do a confused shuffle considering if you should reach over and help for it looks impossible that she could raise that mass by herself. But she does.<br/>
<br/>
“I'm glad you came to see me, Will'um,” she offers as she starts toward the door not even looking at you. “You should come back to Cuthbert – soon – stay a while. This is where your family starts, and you could learn much here. Best get back to your group since the organ will have done its work by now.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Grandmother. I'm sure I'll be back,” you say although you have no plans to return and doubt you will.<br/>
<br/>
She rounds the corner and mutters something to herself as she thumps away. While retrieving your coat, you only take a brief glance to see her squeezing through a door at the far end, then you let yourself out. There's no car; only the bitter wind greets you as you go down the steps stuffing your hands in your pockets and pressing your arms tight against your body. The walk isn't that far, and you feel warm, so you head back into town.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
The lowering sun casts shadows that seem to peek out behind buildings then flit away. At least you hope they're shadows and not one of Robert's monsters. You chuckle at that even though from all the strangeness here and what you've learned from the <i>Libra</i> that magic is real, who knows what “things” might actually be possible, and this place definitely is weird enough to be hiding witches and ghouls. Maybe it's a horror movie in truth where they turn normal humans to hideous creatures or suck the life out of them. There's stories of people going into the hills and never coming out; no trace ever being found. You shiver at the possibilities then start to chuckle.<br/>
<br/>
“You're just plain crazy, Will Prescott,” you say to yourself shaking your head as a wide smile fills your face.<br/>
<br/>
Looking ahead then around at the houses you're passing, it doesn't draw anxiety. Instead a feeling of ease pervades as if this is the friendliest, safest place you could be since whatever monsters lurk in the shadows are just curious and won't hurt you - because you're family.<br/>
<br/>
That must be it. As uncomfortable as you feel at school or on an outing doing something new and different or meeting new people hoping you don't get embarrassed, this place doesn't give you that vibe. The street, buildings, and landscape have a certain charm. It's a creepy charm, but none-the-less, it does have a homey feeling, a place where you are relaxed almost as if you belong. Maybe you could.<br/>
<br/>
A gust of wind pushes you towards the main street as it rustles a tune in the grass, around the houses and through the tree branches and fences. The bandstand comes into view, and you imagine sunny warm days with green grass and shady trees while enjoying a picnic listening to music. As if on cue, a melody arises cheery and enchanting. The organ is still playing, and it pulls you forward.<br/>
<br/>
Checking your phone while walking past the bandstand shows it's been almost an hour which is all the organ playing was to be. There's no one near the church as you approach, but up the street are Rosalie and Will talking to someone. You want to tell them what happened with Grandmother; but you need to get back before you're discovered missing. Plus nothing did happen, and you're getting really cold.<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 1123122221221112111122111211112
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A parting gift
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>So far you've been lucky that Walberg hasn't said anything when you've wandered off, and you want to keep it that way. You're sure you'll catch Rosalie to say goodbye before getting on the bus, so you squeak up the church steps praying the music makes it so no one hears. However, the door announces your entrance louder but, fortunately, in concert with a crescendo from the organ as if it is helping cover you. Still that doesn't stop the breeze from racing past you and down the aisle fluttering hair and scarves. Luckily, no one turns around.<br/>
<br/>
Scurrying quietly to the far side, you slide silently into the last pew of students only noticing once down that you're back next to Cassie. She ignores you. In fact she isn't even working her story although her notebook is on her lap and a pencil in hand. The music has her full attention as she stares trance-like to the front. When you scan the rest, they all are concentrating on the organ. A shiver runs through you on this strangeness, but then the music ends.<br/>
<br/>
It's very quiet as you watch and wait, then nudge Cassie just as Mrs. Johnson comes out of the little door with a creak then a clack as it shuts.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Will. You're back,” she whispers as others start to move and converse.<br/>
<br/>
“Uh, huh. Did Walberg miss me?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, but I did,” she beams then blushes. “I mean, he never said anything and hasn't said anything since the music started.”<br/>
<br/>
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson,” Walberg  bellows as if on cue and claps starting a polite applause. That cuts off any further questions with Cassie. <br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Johnson nods recognition. “I'm glad you enjoyed it. We get so little chance to use it's many capabilities, especially with that last piece. It was written ages ago by a great-great-great-great- “ <i>Will she ever stop?</i> “-great-great grandmother Shabbleman, one of the original settlers who came here …”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, they heard that earlier,” Mr. Doyle again interrupts before she goes rambling off.<br/>
<br/>
“Now, are there any questions for Mrs. Johnson or Mr. Doyle?” Walberg follows.<br/>
<br/>
Marlee Brumsworth immediately springs up from her seat and asks excitedly, “Can we see the organ?”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, it's not much to see,” Mrs. Johnson replies slowly glancing over at Mr. Doyle.<br/>
<br/>
“I play the organ at my church and know how to use the multi-keyboards, stops, and peddles, and also not to touch, but I'd <i>really</i> like to see it.”<br/>
<br/>
Marlee Brumsworth is a short, brown-haired, porky, goody-two-shoes whose religious take on everything could make her a Jehovah's Witness or Mormon the way she turns every conversation into how great it is to believe. Not that you have anything against faith and religion per se, but there are other things in life to discuss and do besides school and church.<br/>
<br/>
Mr. Doyle nods, and Mrs. Johnson offers, “Well, maybe a few, but the room is too tiny for more than one at a time.”<br/>
<br/>
Before she's finishes, Marlee is rolling down the aisle. When she's standing next to Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Doyle, the count goes up to one hundred, and you chuckle quietly wondering if that's why she said they could only get one in at a time. Cassie elbows you grinning obviously with similar thoughts.<br/>
<br/>
As they squeeze through the door to the organ, another question comes forward. “Can you tell more about the organ itself? You said it was a “Breisiger” organ? How did it manage to get here.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, of course. Peter Breisiger was an German organ builder in the early part of the sixteenth century. It was a couple hundred years later, around 1700, that ancestors of the Shabbleman's acquired the organ when it was being replaced in a church in Germany and had it shipped over to America. Unfortunately, some of the parts were missing when it arrived and it had to be rebuilt ….”<br/>
<br/>
You tune him out and notice Cassie is back to her story. She notices your noticing and takes that as an invitation to quietly converse.<br/>
<br/>
“Seriously, what use can anyone have for such information? I guess they're either making nice or trying to drag this out in hope that the rest succumb to boredom or let the teachers think they are so smart because they ask questions and are always attentive for the answer, although maybe they're planning on using it in their report to get a better grade and just show off their ability to regurgitate whatever is said. Although, …” She sticks the eraser end of the pencil between her teeth and gazes off for a few seconds before continuing. “This might be good fodder for an occult, mystery, thriller/horror story.” She winks at you and starts making notes.<br/>
<br/>
Nothing else of importance comes up from questions in the next fifteen minutes before Walberg calls a halt stating that it's time to get back to the bus and head home. In fact, it's a bit later than planned.<br/>
<br/>
Mrs. Johnson and Marlee reappear, the latter looking a bit dazed as she blinks, possibly moving from the dark organ cubbyhole. Walberg tells the others who wanted to see the organ that they'll have to come back on their own and that everyone should use the facilities then board the bus. Some rush out the door while you take a more orderly retreat and end up one of the last to leave.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Will. You were inside?” Rosalie catches you as you start up the street.<br/>
<br/>
“Um, yeah,” you reply trying not to make it sound so obvious that it was a dumb question since she must have seen you exit.<br/>
<br/>
She looks a bit concerned as she asks, “Did you hear the organ play?”<br/>
<br/>
“Just a bit, maybe the last couple minutes. I got back in before they found me gone.” You wink, and she cheers up.<br/>
<br/>
“So it's all over? I guess you'll be glad to get out of this Podunk town and back to the real excitement of the city.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I <i>would</i> think that if it wasn't for you showing me around and meeting family.”<br/>
<br/>
That makes her smile. “Thanks, Will. I hope you can come back and visit. I wish you could stay the weekend so I could introduce you to more.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, what about you coming up to visit? I'm sure my family would love to meet you, too.”<br/>
<br/>
She looks down and shuffles off to the side, you follow. “We don't get out. No real reason,” she quickly adds looking up. “It's just … it's easier for outsiders to come visit.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, I promise I'll come back. I do have my own truck, so I can drive out when I want.”<br/>
<br/>
“Wow. That must be nice to be free like that and go wherever you want.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, there's limitations that mom and dad impose, and also things like my cousin's recital Sunday.”<br/>
<br/>
“So you have tomorrow free?” she implies slyly.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes, but what would Will say if I came back so quickly?”<br/>
<br/>
“He'd say it better be because of family and not trying to get friendly with Rosalie,” comes Will's voice surprising you from behind.<br/>
<br/>
“Of, of course.”<br/>
<br/>
He laughs and slaps you on the back sending you forward. “That cute one that keeps following you around you should get serious with. She likes you a lot. Might be family material, too.”<br/>
<br/>
You look up ahead at the group to see Cassie turning forward from watching you, and you blush. An explanation is on your lips, but Rosalie talks first.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, Will. Before I forget, I got something for you.” She pulls your hand up and takes something from her pocket and ties it around your wrist. “It's like a family thing to remember us.” It's a hand-made bracelet with some small metal workings, beads, buttons, and white sticks. When she finishes tying it, she pulls forward her necklace that is similar. “See.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, you didn't have to, but thank you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Not a big deal, and if you do ever decide to come back, here's a number to let me know so we can be ready.”<br/>
<br/>
After you take the piece of paper, she gives you a quick hug, and Will coughs. “Uh huh. I think I better run you off to the jail now.” His fingers wrap completely around your upper arm - coat and all - as he pulls you back. Concern paints your face as you watch his gruff expression break just a bit. “It's a long trip back.”<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
As you walk back from using the restroom, you look at the bracelet more closely. The fading light doesn't show much, but you can tell it's not made with string, but human hair, and those white sticks are really bones, and one is definitely a chicken or bird claw. If you didn't trust Rosalie, you'd think she just locked onto you a mountain voodoo charm.<br/>
<br/>
Walberg is hustling everyone into the bus as you look for Will and Rosalie. They're at the Town Hall's front steps talking with Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Doyle. You haven't actually said good-bye, although Rosalie's hug was pretty much the same, and there's not much else to say. Still as family maybe you should even if you have to bear the cold a few minutes more.<br/>
<br/>
“All aboard. We need to get going,” Walberg announces. “It'll be slower on these roads in the dark.” <br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11231222212211121111221112111122
author_id: wordsmitty
title: A good day goes bad
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Back in your seat watching out the window, you wave again at Rosalie. It's a good enough farewell and kept Walberg from yelling at you. As you do, there's a harrumph behind you, and a few seconds later, a thump into the seat. You expect it's Cassie. However, a slap on your back has you turn to find Lester “The Molester” Brown grinning.<br/>
<br/>
“Looks like we're seat mates on the return, Prescott,” he beams sadistically. “Hope you're good at entertaining 'cause my earbuds busted on the way down, and my arm would get tired if I punched you all the way home.”<br/>
<br/>
Taking the hint, you hand over your headphones then look for Cassie. She's further back and must have passed you on purpose. Hopefully, it wasn't for your crack about maybe she's related to Mrs. Johnson. You meant for the way they both ramble, but perhaps she thought you insinuated she was fat. Well, too late now to explain and get Lester to switch, if you'd even dare.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
Lumbering through the hills, the bus creeps into the enveloping darkness rolling slowly around curves to avoid any deer wandering ahead. Out the window, jagged black prongs twist upwards like barbs against the sky until that is also black leaving you in an empty void. The sensation of eyes upon you has you look to Lester who's thumbing through some auto magazine filled with pictures of scantily clad women. Not him, so you check Cassie, but her head is down in her writing, and no one else is paying you any mind.<br/>
<br/>
The feeling fades as you turn back, and you pull out your own magazine. It's devoid of any subjects as captivating as Lester's and only offers a few interesting articles. Eventually, the bus hits the main road, and its humming along soon lulls you to sleep.<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
A lightening flash wakes you from a dream in a spooky forest, and again a weight lifts off your shoulder. Lester rolls to the aisle side, eyes closed, and quickly your focus shifts back out the window where you're startled to discover it's clear and only a few blocks from school. The lightening must have been in the dream, and hopefully Lester will never find out the two of you were asleep together.<br/>
<br/>
“We're back. Check your seats and the overhead to make sure you have everything. We're not hosting a lost-and-found. It's your responsibility,” Walberg announces. A picture of him as a flight attendant flashes in your head creating a humorous, nauseating figure.<br/>
<br/>
Lester scurries off the bus – with your headphones – before you're out of your seat. At least he left you unharmed and only took those, you hope. To be sure, you rummage through your pack on the way down the aisle. Once off the bus, you feel someone staring at you but don't see anyone. However,  Lisa and Geoff are just a few paces over, him with his arm around her, walking slowly away. Mustering courage, you hurry to catch up hoping to set a time with her on the <i>Libra</i> and do it in front of Geoff.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, Lisa. You still want to get together tomorrow to discuss that, ah, book?”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh, gee, Will. Geoff and I have plans all day,” she says then twinkles with a giggle at Geoff before looking back at you. “Maybe Sunday afternoon.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. Can't. I've got my cousin's recital.<br/>
<br/>
“That one in Cuthbert? You going back for a jug band?” Geoff teases.<br/>
<br/>
“No.” <i>You asshole,</i> you think but don't say in front of Lisa. “My cousin that goes to Keyserling.”<br/>
<br/>
As Lisa asks about Umeko, your eyes are attracted beyond her to Cassie milling around, occasionally looking your way, then checking her watch. Eventually, she gets an angry expression and stomps off.<br/>
<br/>
“Lisa, you look cold, and it's getting late. We should be going,” Geoff inserts to break off your conversation while thrusting his arm around her again.<br/>
<br/>
You want to keep Lisa, but fate is against you as your phone goes off.<br/>
<br/>
“OK. Maybe after the recital, Will,” she calls over her shoulder as Geoff pulls her away leaving you upset and angry.<br/>
<br/>
“Where have you been? Your mother is worried thinking there might have been an accident.” It's your dad barking at you.<br/>
<br/>
“We just got in. It took longer there, and the mountain roads slowed us down getting back. Didn't even stop for food.”<br/>
<br/>
“And that's the reason you didn't call to let us know?” he chides.<br/>
<br/>
“There's no cell coverage there, and I fell asleep, just woke up when we pulled in.”<br/>
<br/>
“And I'm suppose to believe that you aren't off with Caleb somewhere.”<br/>
<br/>
“Dad.” His question irks you, and you curse under your breath as Mr. Walberg walks by. “Look, if you don't believe me, Mr. Walberg is right here, and you can ask him.” Walberg doesn't stop, but your dad relents.<br/>
<br/>
“Well, OK then. Don't be too long.”<br/>
<br/>
“I'm going to grab a bite. Oh, and tell Mom that I have good news.”<br/>
<br/>
“What's that?” he asks like he needs to pass it on.<br/>
<br/>
“It's a surprise. Be home in an hour. Bye.” You hang up before he agitates you more. Afterward, you realize you've probably upset him with your abrupt ending that will cause issues later.<br/>
<br/>
Tossing your pack into your truck, you churn about Lisa and your dad. Your phone goes off again, and you hope it's something good this time.<br/>
<br/>
“Where have you been, young man?” a squeaky, nasal male voice accosts. “You were suppose to be here hours ago?”<br/>
<br/>
<i>Who the fuck …?</i> you think trying to place it. You almost hang up before recognizing Professor Blackwell. Then you seriously consider it before deciding to tolerate him to see what he's talking about.<br/>
<br/>
“Why am I suppose to be there?”<br/>
<br/>
“My dear lad,” he chastises. “I gave you a book to read and told you I'd be waiting this afternoon to discuss it with you. Have you forgotten?”<br/>
<br/>
You shoot back, “I don't recall saying that I would be there, and I'm not a student or golem that has to come round.”<br/>
<br/>
“Yes. Right. My apologies. I assumed you would be interested and come by.” His arrogance only stops for a moment before he pushes it up a notch. “I don't mean to interfere with your important personal life.”<br/>
<br/>
That riles you to snarl, “We just got back from our field trip, so my personal life has nothing to do with it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Oh. I just assumed you must be working with that young lady on the <i>Libra</i>.”<br/>
<br/>
“What does that matter? She seems to prefer to her old boyfriend, anyway,”<br/>
<br/>
“Perhaps I might be able to help with that.” You snort loudly at the old, pot-bellied pig thinking he knows or could do anything to get Lisa to dump Geoff for you, but he changes direction. “Doesn't take that long to get back from the Saratoga Museum. It closes at five.”<br/>
<br/>
“It wasn't there,” you snipe with increasing ire. “We went into the Cathcarts for the day.”<br/>
<br/>
“Lousy time of year for a nature trip.”<br/>
<br/>
“It wasn't a nature trip,” you almost shout as he seems to be purposely agitating you. “We went to Cuthbert to see some old church and …”<br/>
<br/>
“The Cuthbert church?” he interrupts sounding serious. “That's quite unusual.” He trails off but quickly returns. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow when you come by. You did read the book?”<br/>
<br/>
His tone and thinking that you'll obey has you gritting your teeth answering. “Yes, I read the book, and <i>IF</i> I come by tomorrow, I <i>might</i> tell you what I saw in Cuthbert.”<br/>
<br/>
“No need to get feisty. We can discuss matters quite at any time that is convenient – for you, of course. It's just, every minute you doddle, …”<br/>
<br/>
“I'll see if I can fit you into the schedule.”<br/>
<br/>
“Well, if that's your attitude, maybe I won't help you and your friends.”<br/>
<br/>
The line goes dead, and you heave your phone onto the dash.<br/>
<br/>
“Fat, old bastard! Where does he come off with <i>his</i> attitude!”<br/>
<br/>
* * * *<br/>
<br/>
You peel out and head to a drive-through. After placing the order, Blackwell's parting remark reminds you to text Caleb and Keith on their status.<br/>
<br/>
“r u back?”<br/>
<br/>
“y was i gone?” Keith's message comes back quickly.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Idiot!</i> You're not in the mood to play games, so you text back. “outa mask? she free?”<br/>
<br/>
“oh you want that keith.”<br/>
<br/>
“Damn, asshole!” you shout glad the windows are up. There's another beep, and this time it's Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
“no. he's at bball game.”<br/>
<br/>
Well, at least this golem is honest, but you're still furious that both ignored switching out. <i>Screw 'em. Let them get themselves sorted out,</i> you think as a horn reminds you to move up. “Hold your fucking horses,” you spit as you drive to the window hoping they didn't fuck up your order.<br/>
<br/>
Yes, they do fuck up your order, twice. At least it has meat and not the tofu burger. That was some taste sensation last month.<br/>
<br/>
By now, you're fuming mad and starving, wolfing down the meal as you drive almost choking from the retched teriyaki sauce that the supposedly “correct” sandwich should not have. Fortunately, the fries and soda are enough to wash that taste away since you aren't about to go back again. You'd probably be arrested for killing someone if you did.<br/>
<br/>
<i>This evening is just getting worse. I should have stayed in Cuthbert.</i><br/>
<br/>
Your anger has you about to fling the trash out the window when you recognize you're on the street of the old elementary school with the clubhouse. Thoughts of making a few masks and dropping them on certain people as golems flits with the heat of your fury. Everything's there including the <i>Libra</i>. Then you remember the Cuthbert organ pipes and how they appeared like sigils. There's one way to find out if they do match: stop and get it. But it's already been an hour, and your dad will be questioning what took so long turning this day even longer and worse. You can just as well do it tomorrow and avoid any more confrontation and agitation.<br/>
</span></div></div>


