# chapters

path: 11111121122112111321113411
author_id: seuzz
title: The Blank Brain
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What's wrong?" you ask Susie. She cringes as Caleb gets out of his car.<br/>
<br/>
"That guy," she gasps. "Is that the guy you—? Oh, God, Gillian!"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you know him?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's in my English class! He's always staring at me!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Susie has Caleb for English class? But you have him for English, don't you? Yes, when you're being Will Prescott you and Caleb have the same English class. So that means—doesn't it?—that you have Susie in English. Right?<br/>
<br/>
Oh. Yeah</i> You knew she seemed familiar when you suggested her to Caleb, but you just put it down to Gillian's memories, not your own.<br/>
<br/>
And while you're musing on all this, Susie has started edging away.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, you need to fuck up this scene before it gets even more awkward. "Braydon?" you call to your hubby, who has been loitering nearby. "You can do that thing now."<br/>
<br/>
As your hubby drops the backpack and unzips it, you loosely grasp Susie's wrists and smile in her face,. "I'm sorry, Susie," you tell her, "I didn't know you had a problem with him." But before she can reply, Braydon reaches around from behind and presses a mask into her face. You and he catch her as she crumples to the ground, pulling all of you down.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb runs up with his mouth hanging open. "Jesus! What are you doing this thing out here where everyone can see? You should'a got her in the basement!"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb, sweetie." You brush a lock of hair from your face. "Don't try running the show unless you know what's going on. Apparently, Susie knows you're a pervert."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're always staring at her Ms. Gladstone's class."<br/>
<br/>
"I do not! I don't even know who she is!" He steps back and stares down at her.<br/>
<br/>
"This is Susie, your new identity, you perv, and we've got her in English. We've got her in Calculus, too, now that I remember."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb frowns at the stricken girl. "Sit down," you tell him. "Let's make it look like a picnic."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh," Caleb says after he's squatting around the unconscious Susie. "Right, we do have her in those classes."<br/>
<br/>
"And you can confess now that you're a pervert who eye fucks her when—"<br/>
<br/>
"Who says?" Caleb demands. "Did she say that?"<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't say that," golem-Braydon interrupts. It's just about the first time he's spoken since picking you up.<br/>
<br/>
"Braydon, sweetie." You cup his chin in your  hand and kiss him. "Mommy's talking. I only know what she told you, Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"If I'm eye-fucking anyone in Gladstone's class," he grumbles, "it's Andrea Varnsworth."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. So does Susie sit between you and Andrea?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck if I know, I only notice Andrea." He frowns at Susie, then shrugs. "Eh, I guess she'll do."<br/>
<br/>
"She'll <i>have</i> to do. If she wakes up and she isn't you, she's going to be a very unhappy girl. You got your mask and the golem stuff?" Caleb pats the satchel hanging from his shoulder. "Good." You look around and smile brightly at the day and at your friends. "This is fun, we should do it more often."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Braydon cradles Susie's head in his lap while you check your phone for texts. Danielle Davis is talking about a giant pizza-and-a-movie thing (but without volunteering her place) and Emma Witkin wants to know if anyone is up for a thing at the river, on account of yesterday's rains ruined that location for a Saturday night thing. You like both ideas, and you show them to Caleb, but he only shrugs and bobs and swivels his head while watching the nearby houses with bulging eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Finally, the mask comes out of Susie. You watch from under lowered brows as Caleb fumbles the golem stuff into it. He makes it a sloppy affair, almost certainly on account of nerves. When he's done, you pull it from his grasp and yourself set it on Susie, as Caleb would likely jab her in the lip or eye with a sharp corner.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb," you tell him as Susie opens her eyes and looks around with puzzlement. "Tell her not to talk or scream, and to follow you out to the basement."<br/>
<br/>
But his jaw just hangs open and his eyes bug out as Susie scoots back from him. "Gillian," she stammers, "what the hell—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb, you better do something," you murmur.<br/>
<br/>
"Gyuh?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
Susie scrambles to her feet. Losing all patience, you kick Caleb in the ribs. "Ow!" he yells. "Quit it!"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't yell at me, yell at her, your new— Oh, shit! There she goes!" And sure enough, Susie has gone sprinting off.<br/>
<br/>
"Muh?" Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell her to stop, you moron!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop!"<br/>
<br/>
"Call her by name, you fucking—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Susie! Stop!" Caleb yells.<br/>
<br/>
Susie trips and falls. Caleb, like a gooney bird trying to take flight, galumphs over to where she sprawls.<br/>
<br/>
"You know what I love about you, sweetie," you tell Braydon who has been watching Caleb's contretemps with a smirk. "You come when I call and stay when I tell you." You nuzzle at his ear.<br/>
<br/>
Whatever Caleb says to the Susie-golem manages to work, for both of them, looking nervous and aghast, stumble off toward the basement door. You watch until they disappear. Then, as there won't be any excitement for awhile, you hook an arm around Braydon and pull him down to the grass. "Pay attention to me," you tell him. "All over." He obliges while you graze on his hair and watch the basement door over the crown of his head.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe five minutes pass before a figure appears: Caleb, looking as distracted and embarrassed as when he vanished under the school. You raise up with a frown, but after flashing you a sour look he lopes over to his car and gets in. He has some trouble starting it, it looks like, but after it roars to life he turns around and drives slowly away.<br/>
<br/>
But Susie doesn't come out.<br/>
<br/>
And she doesn't come out, and she doesn't come out.<br/>
<br/>
You're on the verge of mounting a rescue mission when the door finally opens. Susie Lekuawehe, in her burgundy sweater and tight jeans and leather boots, and her hair draping softly around her shoulders, comes out and pulls the door shut. She looks around, and advances on you with the gait of one who is trying to navigate in bare feet a floor scattered with fish hooks.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey girl!" you call out to her, but she winces. "What's wrong?" She doesn't answer.<br/>
<br/>
She takes long enough reaching you that you have plenty of time to notice how clumsily she wobbles on her feet. She also twists about, as though trying to get comfortable in her clothes.<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb?" you say as she comes up, and "Yeah," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Susie?" you prompt, and "I guess," she mutters back. With a sigh and another wince she lower herself to the grass. She digs through her hair with long fingers. "What's wrong?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing?" But still she frowns, and pulls at the front of her sweater. She flushes as she accidentally tweaks a boob. (And a fine, large cluster they are, too.) "Just taking awhile to get used to things."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what do you want to do tonight?" You pull Braydon up so that you can sit in his lap with your arms dangled about his neck. "So who did you make out with last night?" you ask when she doesn't answer. "So you can find someone new or else go back for seconds."<br/>
<br/>
You laugh at your tease, but Susie shoots you a dirty look. "What's wrong?" you ask. "Just because Susie thinks you're a creep—"<br/>
<br/>
"Does she?" Susie bursts out. "'Cos I don't know <i>what</i> she thinks!"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Caleb's expostulation surprises you, but it doesn't alarm you when he goes on to say that he hasn't got <i>any</i> of Susie's memories. "Maybe you should just relax," you suggest, and shrug when he asks how long it took for you to get into Braydon's and Gillian's and your dad's memories, because they seem to have come to you instantly. For a quarter hour you tease him while he looks around with a grumpy expression on Susie's very pretty face.<br/>
<br/>
But after twenty minutes, at the end of which he professes not to remember a goddamn thing about her—such as her birthday, address, family, or classes—you become alarmed enough to suggest something has gone wrong with the mask. It's an awful sight when you pull the mask off Caleb, leaving him inside Susie's clothes, but the inside of the mask looks okay: SUSAN KIRA LEKUAWEHE. It has golem goop inside it, so you can't get in to check it out yourself, but you pull at Braydon's face—revealing Gillian—and pop Susie's mask onto her long enough to confirm that golem-Susie knows all about Susie's life.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't go home if I don't know where I live!" Caleb exclaims after he's fitted out in Susie's mask again.<br/>
<br/>
"I know where she lives," you assure him. "That's not a problem."<br/>
<br/>
"That's not what I mean!" For a minute you think he's going to hit you. "I mean, if I don't have her memories, if I don't know how to act like her—"<br/>
<br/>
"So we keep you out of her house," you say, and you dig through Susie's purse after her phone. "That's not a problem either. Susie's never home that much anyway." Caleb reaches for the phone, but you pull it away. You ignore the texts that are piling up to send one to her mom: <i>What tiime u need me home?</i> "If it's still a problem tonight," you tell him, "you'll just have to go home as yourself and send the golem home for Susie instead."<br/>
<br/>
"You're taking this awfully well, Will," Caleb says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not my problem," you retort. "Besides, Gillian's good at not panicking."<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile, it looks like plans are piling up: Danielle Davis has got commitments for a small party at her place, but others like the sound of a thing down by the river. Whatever you do, though, you don't want to leave Caleb to fend for himself.</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113211134112
author_id: seuzz
title: Life at the River
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"Come on." You pull Caleb to his feet. "Sweetie," you tell Braydon. "You can go home. Read that book, the one you were reading when I came over and, you know—" You poke and tickle him. "Yesterday. Takes lots of good notes."<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"Susie and me are going to go have fun." You pull Caleb— now Susie Lekuawehe—close. She stiffens in your embrace. "She needs to loosen up."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of fun?" Caleb asks. He sounds frightened.<br/>
<br/>
"Out by the river kind of fun. There's a bunch of people—"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God, Will! I can't go out with—"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll be fine! You're so pretty! Isn't she pretty, Braydon?" you ask, for your hubby is still lingering. You stroke Susie's bangs.<br/>
<br/>
"She's very pretty," Braydon agrees, but he's looking everyplace but at you and Caleb as he says it. He's so cute when he's embarrassed! you think. But you dismiss him with a firmer order to go home.<br/>
<br/>
"If you think I'm so pretty," Caleb grumbles, "maybe you and me should go off and have a party by ourselves."<br/>
<br/>
You giggle. "That would be fun, but I want to see if you can swim. That's what you're supposed to do with someone, right? Throw them in the deep end? If you have to act like Susie, maybe that'll get you acting like her."<br/>
<br/>
"But—!"<br/>
<br/>
"But nothing. Come on, you drive."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your destination is a long strip of low riverbank on Mohegan River. It's a grassy stretch with the gurgling river on one side and a fringe of trees on the others, where kids like to park and party and make out. Susie moans all the way out, which gets on your nerves until you snap at her to "stop acting like Johansson." She gets very quiet after that, which isn't much better, since Susie is a bubbly, voluble girl who loves to flirt and tease and laugh and joke.<br/>
<br/>
There are a lot of cars when you arrive, for there's a mile or more of places to park, and lots of people have apparently had the same idea about a Sunday hangout after the rains of Saturday. But finally you spot the cars of the people you're looking for, and tell Susie to squeeze in next to them.<br/>
<br/>
It's impossible to tell where this party stops and the next-door parties start, as they're all clumps of people strung out along the bank with beers and colas, some standing and others leaning against or sitting atop cars. As Susie pulls into a space, Eric Harlen waves at you without dropping his other arm from around Rebecca Sykes. Tim Gerard is standing in a circle with Brianna Kirschke and Dean Stratton; he's talking intently, and he makes a face every time Dean puts his cigarette to his lips. Jack Li and Wendy Terrill are guarding a Styrofoam chest while Eric Murphy, Tim Ryan and Jason Church crouch around the hibachi, arguing intently.<br/>
<br/>
And in and among these wander couples with their arms around each other: Parker Stott and Kristin Townes; Andrew Harding and Brianna Gould; Lee Reynolds and Katie Byrd; Spencer Osbourne and Emma Witkin; Gabriel Diaz and Fatima Zahedi.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian's antennae quiver at the sight of some of these. Spencer and Emma? Interesting! Gabriel and Fatima? No! Really? OMG!<br/>
<br/>
Susie grabs your wrist. "I don't know any of these people!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure you do. These are your best friends. They know {i]all about you, Susie." You titter into your hand. "All your secrets and dreams and crushes and hideous embarrassments." You titter again at the horrified face Susie turns on you. "So you better get your game on!"<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" Susie hisses, but with a laugh you're out of the car and running over to Eric and Rebecca.<br/>
<br/>
"You have to hide me from Susie," you gasp at them. "She's in a weird mood!" You put them between you and your advancing friend.<br/>
<br/>
"You two dykes just need to do it with each other," Eric chortles. "Break the sexual tension once and for all." Rebecca slaps him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, where's Braydon?" Tim calls at you. "I got a story I want him to read."<br/>
<br/>
"One of yours?" You push Eric at Susie (who has run up) and dart off to join Gerard and his two friends. "Is there anything to eat?" you ask them.<br/>
<br/>
"Chips and pretzels. Yeah, I wrote it last Friday, it's got a black magician in it and I wanna see what Braydon thinks."<br/>
<br/>
"Braydon doesn't like it when people write about warlocks, he thinks everyone's prejudiced against them. Tell your story to Susie, she'd love to hear it." You jump away as Susie catches up, and snatch the joint from Spencer's fingers as you pass. You take a short hit, return it to him, and tell him to share it with Susie, who is still pursuing you.<br/>
<br/>
Down the line you go in this way. At the hibachi you ask about the bratwurst they're cooking, and when Tim bluntly asks you for a contribution you tell them to talk to Susie, as she's paying for everything today on account of you won a bet with her. You ask Brianna about her tiger-print jacket while secretly rolling your eyes at the bad henna dye she's given herself. (No professional could have possibly left her hair looking so limp and lifeless). You ask Katie what Gabriel and Fatima are doing together; she tells you it's because Fatima is mad at someone.<br/>
<br/>
Susie finally corners you at the far end of the gauntlet, and Parker and Kristin watch with glinting eyes as she drags you back behind a Jeep so you can have a quiet consultation. It took Caleb almost ten minutes to catch up to you because he kept getting snagged by the others.<br/>
<br/>
"So," you snicker. "Did anyone figure out you're a fake?"<br/>
<br/>
"I can't do this," she whines. <br/>
<br/>
"Sure you can. Susie's an airhead. She's almost as bad as Emma." You peer around the corner of the Jeep at the girl who had the idea for the party. She's a vacant-eyed giggler with a halo of reddish-brown hair that floats about her ears. She wears black onyx jewelry, and Gillian has always suspected that if she and Braydon ever broke up, her hubby would make straight for Emma despite the way she can't get more three sentences out without gasping "Oh my God!"<br/>
<br/>
"But I'm not going to know what they're talking about!"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't have to. That's the great part about being an airhead. Look, just go over to the ice chest and talk to Jack and Wendy. Flirt with him."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not gonna flirt with a guy!"<br/>
<br/>
"You're be totally safe, he's gay."<br/>
<br/>
Still Caleb protests, but you poke and poke until just get away from you he totters over to Jack and Wendy.<br/>
<br/>
In addition to being gay, Jack Li is Chinese-American, which would put him at something of a double-disadvantage at Westside if his family wasn't also pretty rich. But at the moment, stretched out lazily on the grass in his long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans with Wendy sitting beside him, he just looks like another clean-cut senior. He grins up at you and Susie. "So tell me about your Saturday," he says to your friend.<br/>
<br/>
And for the first time, your own heart skips a beat in sympathy with Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"I had fun." A ghastly grin spreads across her face. Gently, you grasp her by the elbows and kick at the back of her knees, so that she falls down next to Jack. He helps her down, and you feel Caleb stiffening all over. "Um," she says once she's on the grass with him. "Yeah, I had fun, even though it rained."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, did you get wet?"<br/>
<br/>
"A little bit." Her grin is a rictus. You don't bother keeping a straight face as you settle in next to Wendy, but you fight to keep from laughing out loud.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, they need to fix the roof," Jack says. "Which one had the leak?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't answer that," Wendy butts in. "It's none of his business."<br/>
<br/>
"It might be, one of these days," Jack protests. "You don't know." He turns back to Susie. "It wasn't the last one, was it?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, more toward the middle." She turns a terrified look on you.<br/>
<br/>
"Gillian!" a voice calls. You look over. It's Brianna Kirschke. You wave, but she gestures you to come over.<br/>
<br/>
"You stay here." You press a fingertip into Susie's thigh as you get your feet under you. "Jack," you tell him, "keep her here, but don't scare her."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm like bears," he tells Susie as you trot off. "I'm more scared of you than you are of me."<br/>
<br/>
Brianna smiles at your approach and says, "Good, I wanted it just you. How's Susie doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine, I guess. Maybe a little weirder than usual," you add, for you've decided that maybe Caleb needs a little cover. You twitch the cigarette from Dean, take a hit, then drop it to the ground and crush it beneath your toe.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna looks past your shoulder. "She's not freaked out or anything, is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why would she be—?"<br/>
<br/>
You break off, for now you're worried that there's something going on that Gillian should know about.<br/>
<br/>
Tim says, "Good, 'cos I just got word he's on his way here," while Brianna says, "Don't you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Know what?" A cold spot envelops your heart.<br/>
<br/>
Brianna covers her gasp with the palm of her hand. "She didn't tell you? About ...?"<br/>
<br/>
"About what?"<br/>
<br/>
Brianna glances around, and leans close to you. Before she can speak, Dean snorts, "It's not a big-ass secret, Brianna." She spares him a brief glare before clutching you and pulling you close.<br/>
<br/>
"Susie was at the Warehouse last night," she says in a low voice. "She wound up upstairs."<br/>
<br/>
Upstairs? As in—? "No!"<br/>
<br/>
"She didn't tell you!"<br/>
<br/>
"No! Who with?"<br/>
<br/>
"Some Eastman guy," Tim says. He waggles his cell phone at you. "And I just got word he's on his way out here."<br/>
<br/>
"So I wanna know how she's doing," Brianna says. "In case, you know—" Her brows bunch up. "She doesn't want to see him."<br/>
<br/>
That's probably a good idea. But hell— It would also be a lot of fun to see Caleb try to interact with the guy. And Susie is such an airhead he might get away with it!</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132111341123
author_id: seuzz
title: A Case of the Mondays
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As fun as it would be to stick around and watch Caleb squirm, it would be better if you left. For starters, you do have work that you need to get back to—the work that Gillian distracted you from. And if you stayed, Caleb would just try hiding out with you, and badgering you into rescuing him.<br/>
<br/>
He's still preoccupied with Jack Li at the moment. He says he hasn't got any of Susie's memories or personality, but the expression of terror on his—on Susie's—face isn't out of character for her. Maybe it's something about her facial muscles, but even when Susie is happy she looks faintly worried, and even when she's partying it's like there's an undercurrent of panic. <i>Oh my God!</i> is Susie's favorite exclamation, and she doesn't so much walk anywhere as much as she scampers.<br/>
<br/>
So you decide there's little chance of him blowing his cover. When he sees you looking in his direction, you motion at him to stay put. Then, when he isn't looking, you sneak away to your car and drive off without him.<br/>
<br/>
It's going to be <i>so funny</i> when he catches up to you and is all, like, totally furious with you!<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you're not going to make it easy for him. On your way back into town you stop to text Braydon, ordering him to meet you again out at the Westside parking lot. There are almost a dozen cars there, parked up next to the gym, and from the far side of the parking lot you see that the tennis courts are occupied. You can't tell who's there, though. Since the tennis team is stocked with rich fucks like Kelsey Blankenship who could just as easily get a court up at the country club, it must be regular kids with nothing else to do on a Sunday evening. Losers.<br/>
<br/>
When Braydon pulls up you crawl into his back seat with him. You're about to wrap yourself with a blanket when, on an impulse, you pull yourself up to him and kiss his chest through his shirt. "I'm going to leave you alone for the next week," you find yourself saying. "So I'm going to need— Rrngh!" You bite one of his nipples, and he jumps.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you going to be doing?" he asks. It comes out as a sigh.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I'll distract myself with someone. Probably Susie."<br/>
<br/>
"Hot."<br/>
<br/>
"I know, right?" You pull him into a tighter embrace. "But I need you to— Mm. Fill me up? To hold me? Until then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fill you up?" His brows peak in the middle of his forehead. Like Susie, Braydon has a constant look of worry, but this look of worry means <i>Do you really mean what it sounds like you mean?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Make me feel good, Braydon," you murmur. Being inside Gillian is like being inside a hot steam bath, and you can't help relaxing into her personality and her instincts, especially now when you're about to abandon her. You pull the blanket up over yourselves. "Make me feel like you're going to miss me, and you need to— <i>Rrrmmmhm.</i> Tear off little chunks of me that you'll keep through winter."<br/>
<br/>
And Braydon obliges. He leans over, like an overgrown child suckling at his mother's breast, and you cradle him your arms as he nuzzles at the tops of your breasts. Bit by bit, with your help, he loosens  your top and peels it back, and lifts and pushes away your bra. For a quarter hour, at least, he nips at and tickles your breasts—including the tips— with his teeth and tongue. You relax all over, like your very bones are liquefying  and puddling in your joints, and your fingers are like floppy rubber when you undo and pull off your skirt. Braydon puts his face between your thighs, and his tongue flicks in and out.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Relaxed</i> is as far as you get, though, and not long after you've pulled off all of Gillian's clothes you force Braydon back so you can pull off the mask. You're still relaxed, though, after you're awake, and only the terror of being caught—as a naked Will Prescott—in the backseat of Braydon's car gets you moving. Braydon disrobes under the blanket with you (much to your distaste), and when he's got everything off you pull his face off and replace it with Gillian's. <br/>
<br/>
Her mouth twists up in a half smile, and she peers at you from under her lashes. "That was nice," she says. "You wanna pick up where Braydon left off?"<br/>
<br/>
That would be nice, but it's getting dark, and you also feel kind of strange being naked with her. (You also still feel her personality bumping around inside you, and Gillian would not be much interested in making out with herself.) Also, her cell phone has been vibrating, probably with messages from Caleb, and you should probably get her off and away so she can distract Susie.<br/>
<br/>
So you grunt a negative and tell her to get dressed. "After that you can go home," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
"I can?" There's a mischievous note in her voice.<br/>
<br/>
"Go home," you order her. "And stay away from me. From Braydon, I mean." You hesitated. "Go flirt with other guys."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess I can do that." She doesn't sound disappointed. She's already getting into her underthings as she speaks. <br/>
<br/>
You linger a bit with her, waiting to see if she has anything else to add. She doesn't, and when she's dressed again she just gives you a long, silent smile before getting out of the car. You huddle up inside the blanket and with gritted teeth try to squeeze the erection out of your cock without touching it. It doesn't want to go down, though, so after Gillian has driven off you press Braydon's mask back to your face.<br/>
<br/>
The erection is still there—though it's Braydon's—when you wake again.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Back at Braydon's you get much less done than you would have hoped. His mom sends you to pick up a pizza, and she asks you to watch TV with her while the two of you eat it. You let Braydon's sense of guilt drag you along. His father ran off with another woman when Braydon was little, and his mom still holds something of a grudge against the male of the species as a result, so she doesn't have much of a social life. Fortunately, she got everything in the divorce, and her job as a restaurant manager at the IHOP keeps them comfortable, even if her hours are long and varied. You do get some reading done, but it leaves you restless, for there's nothing obviously and immediately useful in the Cornelius Agrippa, and you've no idea if it could lead to anything useful in the long run.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian, at least, obeys your orders, and the next day at school, even in the classes you share with her, she only twinkles at you with a secret smile. You hide from Braydon's friends, and connect with Christian Knouse only long enough to tell him that you're going to have to miss the RPG session scheduled for that afternoon up at King Kong Komics. He doesn't sound broken up by your confession, though there is a snappishness to his reply, "Fine, it's just what this country needs, a lot more anti-social deviant fuckoffs." But maybe he's pissed about something else, because he's glaring around your shoulder when he says it.<br/>
<br/>
You have Susie for fourth-period English, though—a class that you and she share with Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson. The person who looks like Caleb ignores you as you slither into Ms. Gladstone's classroom, but Will perks up and watches you all the way back to your desk. He only slumps when Susie comes in, but Caleb sits up sharply, and she flinches and crimsons as she squeezes past his desk. His golem, you notice, turns and stares at her ass as she passes. "You son of a bitch," she mutters when she passes your desk.<br/>
<br/>
So Christian isn't the only one with a case of the Mondays. "You on the rag or something?" you ask her after class, as you're both on your way to the cafeteria.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. Bad enough you left me at the river with— Fuck you! But then I went to find you at Gillian's, and she only giggled at me while I spent a whole hour yelling at her, and only <i>then</i> did she tell me she wasn't <i>you</i> anymore. I called her a lying cunt, and it wasn't until I wrestled her down and pulled her face off—"<br/>
<br/>
"You didn't!" you laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you. I almost went over to your place—Braydon's, you know—and put a rock through your window."<br/>
<br/>
"Did you ever get Susie's memories?" You've paused just outside the door to the cafeteria, and there's enough noise and bother about that you're not worried about being overheard.<br/>
<br/>
She snorts. "Yes. I woke up with them this morning."<br/>
<br/>
"So why are you pissed off?"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you," she says, and stomps into the cafeteria.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's in sixth period—AP Latin II—as you are contemplating the dumpy Morgana Hollis—a would-be Wiccan—that you get an idea so obvious that you can't believe you didn't have it before.<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I remember it," Ted Arnholm snorts as he examines the grimoire. "Hard to forget a hundred bucks that—" He looks momentarily startled as he opens the book and finds that the first few pages easily turn. He shoots you a dirty look which you return with an innocent one of your own.<br/>
<br/>
"Aubrey Blackwell," he says, in answer to your next question. "It was in a batch we bought off him a few weeks ago."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Aubrey Blackwell.</i> That's the anthropology professor you found earlier when looking up experts in magic. <i>Interesting,</i> you think as the small hairs on your back start to rise. "Why did he sell it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you go ask him yourself?"<br/>
<br/>
Why not indeed?</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111321113411232
author_id: seuzz
title: The Clever Thing to Do
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>It's probably not a good idea to directly approach the former owner of the grimoire. You're even less inclined to approach him directly when you learn from Ted Arnholm of Arnholm's Used Books that the former owner is not only a university professor but is one of the experts that you turned up when you went Googling for help a couple of days ago.  A man like that probably isn't an idiot.<br/>
<br/>
In fact—<br/>
<br/>
But you leave off puzzling over the matter when, in your distracted state, you almost run a red light.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So what did I miss?" you ask as you saunter into the game room at King Kong Komics. Technically, it's a sandwich shop, with its own front door and everything in the strip center. But no one ever eats there, so Eric Kim, who operates it and the connected comics shop, lets Christian and his friends use it for their gaming sessions.<br/>
<br/>
"Get out!" Christian snarls. "You said you had someplace else to be!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I was there and I got it done." You hook a foot around the leg of a chair and pull it out. "Are we still sitting in the middle of that bog," you ask as you drop your bony ass into it, "or did you guys figure out a way to carry Tiny around?" "Tiny" is your character in this quest: a half-elf, half-giant.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Someone</i> wouldn't let us wake him up." Christian glares at Howie Baylor, who is running the campaign. "So we left him. That's how come you can just turn around and— <i>Whhhttt!"</i> He whistles through his teeth and points at the door.<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't <i>not let you</i> pick him up," Howie retorts. "I let you roll. It's not my fault you're better at getting laid than at rolling a ten or higher." <br/>
<br/>
Christian snatches up a die and shakes it menacingly under Howie's nose.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, let him catch up," Darrell Parton sighs. "We didn't get that far out of the bog." He squints at Hugh Flake. "That's one good thing about having an incompetent Ranger for a guide."<br/>
<br/>
"He'd have to find his way out too," Christian retorts. "How many saving throws would you make him cast against getting lost?" he asks Howie.<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up," Hugh mutters at Christian out of the side of his mouth. "You're trying to make things harder."<br/>
<br/>
"Howie doesn't even let us pick our noses without rolling for the effect."<br/>
<br/>
Howie looks hurt.<br/>
<br/>
"Tell you what," you say. "Instead of saving throws, let's do it this way. It's practically the same thing. Darrell, think of a number between one and twenty-one. If I guess it right," you tell Howie, "Tiny gets out of the bog and catches up."<br/>
<br/>
"The odds aren't the same," Howie protests. <br/>
<br/>
"You're right. They're worse. One chance out of twenty-one instead of— What? Fifty-fifty? One out of three, at making a wrong turn?"<br/>
<br/>
"But you'd have to make at least six saving throws. That's what I made the other guys do." Howie pulls on his lip, but a light comes into his eye. <br/>
<br/>
Christian groans. "Oh God, look at that!" he exclaims as Howie takes up a pencil and starts flipping through the rule book. "He's going to do a <i>statistical analysis!</i> We could'a <i>rolled</i> you out of the bog by now! And you still won't make it, even if you—"<br/>
<br/>
"Bet?" you taunt Christian.<br/>
<br/>
"Three throws," Howie says. "I mean, three separate guesses. Uh—"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, Darrell," you say before Howie can start adding conditions. "Pick a number between one and twenty-one. Is it seventeen?"<br/>
<br/>
Darrell's brow crinkles, and you kick him hard under the table. He gasps and sits up. You kick him again, and his jaw drops.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" he says. "Yeah! It was! Er, seventeen."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool. Nine?"<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, nine!"<br/>
<br/>
"Seventeen again?" you ask. Howie's eyes pop, and a purple flush creeps up his cheeks. <br/>
<br/>
"Wow. Yeah! You're, like, psychic!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>"That's! Not! Fair!"</i> Howie howls. "You needed to write the numbers down!"<br/>
<br/>
"No one said anything about writing anything down," you retort. "I just said I'd ask Darrell to think of a number between one and twenty-one. You went along with it, even calculated the odds we'd need to—"<br/>
<br/>
"But—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck it, man, he got you," Christian says. He squints at you. "Fucking clever-ass son of a bitch."<br/>
<br/>
Howie makes a noise like he's gargling rocks, but yields. Tiny joins the others, and the company proceeds on its quest.<br/>
<br/>
But you're silent most of the rest of the session, preoccupied as you are with trying to be clever about something else.<br/>
<br/>
You want to get a mind-band onto the forehead of Professor Aubrey Blackwell. The man's knowledge could be crucial to reviving your father. He is not only a putative expert on magic but was the previous owner of the grimoire. But a warlock—and that's what it sounds like he is—is not someone to be approached directly or carelessly. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So send a fake," Susie Lekuawehe says. "You've got enough of them." She glances up from her cell phone long enough to shoot Gillian a dirty look.<br/>
<br/>
It's ten o'clock, but The Crystal Cave is still open, and that's where your trio is hanging out. Your girlfriend—still remembering your orders—is playfully keeping her distance, and is curled up on the bench opposite you with her feet tucked under her. But though she has no words for you, she will still stare at you with twinkling eyes, and will gnaw provocatively on a cardboard stir stick. It serves her right when part of it comes off in her mouth, and she makes a face as she peels it off her tongue.<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," Susie continues, "why don't you go meet this guy yourself? Or are you too much of a chicken-shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. The guy's an expert on this stuff. And he used to own the book, he's probably an expert on it too. Look at what <i>we</i> got up to with it. I'm not just gonna walk up to a guy who's probably made, like, all kinds of masks and things and ask him to explain it all to me."<br/>
<br/>
"How smart can he be if he lost the book?"<br/>
<br/>
That is a point, but it's not a point that makes you any more confident about approaching Professor Aubrey Blackwell directly. You doubt anyone could be such a butterfingers as to <i>lose</i> that grimoire. It makes you wonder if something <i>happened</i> to him. "Like what?" Susie asks when you voice the thought.<br/>
<br/>
"Who knows? But maybe—" You glance at Gillian. "Maybe the fakes got the upper hand?" you suggest. "Maybe he lost control?"<br/>
<br/>
Susie sucks in her cheeks. "So send in a fake," she suggests again. "Do a recon."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I'm thinking."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why are you asking me—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, who?" you explain to her. "I want ideas. Not you, not me, not my dad, not Gillian. Not anyone connected to us, or, you know, our aliases." Susie frowns at you, so you continue with a sigh. "You were all excited about making masks and having fun with them. Are you having enough fun as Susie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well I could, if—"<br/>
<br/>
"Do you want a new mask?" you say, giving up on the attempt to be coy. "I'm asking you to suggest someone we could copy to send on the recon. Someone you'd like to have a copy of anyway, someone you'd—"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper."<br/>
<br/>
You rear back. <i>The head cheerleader?</i> "What? No! Be serious!"<br/>
<br/>
"I am serious. Or how about one the Garners? Or Cindy?"<br/>
<br/>
You facepalm. "Is it you or Susie who's being the bubble-brain? It has to be someone who can, like, jump on this professor. Overpower him. So we can get a mind band onto him, copy his brain. I don't think Chelsea could—"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea wouldn't have to overpower him. She could just get into his lap and blow in his ear."<br/>
<br/>
Now you bury your whole face in your hands. "Okay, I get what you're saying. But I don't think it's going to be that easy."<br/>
<br/>
"Why not?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what if he's gay? Besides, I don't think a professor is just going to let a strange girl get in his lap. There is such a thing as sexual harassment, you know, and I bet a lot of the people at the university would be worried about—"<br/>
<br/>
"So you're saying you want me to think of a <i>guy</i> to use?" Susie says. "Ew!"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe a guy who has a hot girlfriend?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh!" She blinks. "Right. That could ... work." You roll your eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking someone like the Molester," you tell her. "Someone big and stupid and scary. We've got a mask of him anyway—you saw to that—so we could use that, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Ick. No, let's get someone else." Her phone dings, and she makes a face at it. "We could use my brother," she says. "Susie's brother, I mean. I could get him no problem, but I don't think Sam— Well, what do you think? Do you think Susie's brother could get laid? He hasn't got a girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"I think we should use someone who's <i>not</i> connected to <i>any</i> of our aliases. Just in case."<br/>
<br/>
"Then what about someone from Eastman? That's about as unconnected to us as you can get."<br/>
<br/>
"You can get someone from there?"<br/>
<br/>
She winces and nods. "Sure. The guy I— That <i>Susie</i> spent the night with Saturday. He's a tennis player or something, and I <i>guess</i> he's pretty good-looking."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
An Eastman student sounds like a good idea, but even after you say so Caleb will insist on trying to use a girl, and his suggestions become ever more baroque. <i>Copy one of the girls' soccer players, if you want a jock. Copy a teacher. Copy a girl and use her face to copy a teacher.</i> You brush her ideas aside impatiently.<br/>
<br/>
But once you're home, you decide that he might be on to something, particularly about using a teacher. Maybe a college student?</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113211134112322
author_id: seuzz
title: The Waiting Game (Which Sucks)
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb receives your decision in bad grace when you tell him the next morning. "You know what I'm going to have to do?" he moans. "I'm going to have to sleep with him again!"<br/>
<br/>
You rake your eyes across the school library, which is crowded with students sheltering from the rain. "Why don't you say that a little louder, Susie?" you suggest. "Make sure everyone hears you." Gillian, who is snuggled up close to you, giggles.<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you!" Caleb hunches over the table. "It's gonna be Friday at the earliest before I do anything!" he hisses. "We could get a teacher or a cheerleader faster than that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe we'll get you one anyway. I'm thinking of <i>you,</i> you know."<br/>
<br/>
"No you're not!"<br/>
<br/>
"I am! If this guy is such a stud, think how you can use him to get laid after you get a copy of him. Then, same as you used Susie to get a copy of him, you could use him to get a copy of—" You roll your tongue around in your cheek.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's eyes narrow. "That's not what you're thinking!"<br/>
<br/>
"I said it, so I must be thinking it."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got that other plan in mind!"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure I do. I don't want this thing traced back to Westside. And I can stand to wait a couple of days, if it takes you till Friday to meet up with this guy."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's complexion curdles. "I'd like to know how you got to be the boss."<br/>
<br/>
"Because I'm the one in trouble." <i>Also,</i> you can't help thinking as you twist the ring on your index finger, <i>I got Braydon's magic bling on my side.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But is it effective? You're far from convinced. Anyway, at the moment you want to master magical theory, not magical artifacts. <br/>
<br/>
You left Arnholm's yesterday in a forward-thinking mood: <i>How do I get to Aubrey Blackwell?</i> Today, after school, you return to the bookstore with a different plan: To acquire other of the professor's cast-off books. You doubt that a warlock would really part with anything really valuable. But, you remind yourself as you park behind the bookstore, he did part with that grimoire.<br/>
<br/>
Ted Arnholm doesn't look pleased to see you, and he snorts when you ask him to show you the other books that he bought that day from Professor Blackwell. "It was two months ago!" he reminds you.<br/>
<br/>
"Can you show me the shelves where they might be? I want to buy them. All of them."<br/>
<br/>
Those are the magic words, apparently, for there's no mistaking the glint of cupidity that comes into his eye. "Matt!" he shouts in a cracked voice, and a curly-headed college kid hurries over from the front counter.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, yeah! Let's check it out!" he enthuses when you tell him you want the titles of the books that Aubrey Blackwell sold the bookshop two months ago. Back at the counter, he opens up a laptop. "Must'a been a pretty big acquisition," he chatters brightly. "Those're the only ones we ever put in the records!" He taps furiously. "And we got a winner!"<br/>
<br/>
He copies down some titles, then—still making meaningless small talk—he leads you around the bookstore. Most of books (no surprise) are lodged in the Occult and Paranormal section, but two of them are in the History section, and one is in the Science section. A search of the Special Collections turns up nothing, though. "Must'a sold that one to a collector," he laughs. You smile to yourself. <i>Libra Personae</i> is the title he has scribbled down for that spot. <i>So that's the thing's name.</i><br/>
<br/>
The total price for the dozen book or so books is well outside your budgetary range, so you only buy the ones with handwritten notes in the margins or inside the covers. Ted Arnholm comes over to glower at you while the still-burbling clerk checks you out. "Thought you were gonna buy all of them," he says.<br/>
<br/>
"I am," you tell him. "Just not all at once."<br/>
<br/>
The clerk guffaws, but he shuts up quick as Arnholm—a vein throbbing in his forehead—turns a snarling face on him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The next few days pass normally—or at least with what passes for normality for Braydon Delp. You go to class. You talk with his friends. You attend two more gaming sessions. You get cornered in the boys' bathroom by George Mendoza and Joe Thomason, you taunt you as a queer, a pedophile, and a goat fucker. (You're rescued by Gary Chen, of all people, who barges in to demand why the fuck they're jerking off with you, and chases them out. You're grateful to him for about three seconds—before he grabs you by the neck and shoves you head first into the big bathroom garbage canister.) You spend your nights reading books on the occult. All totally normal experiences for Braydon Delp.<br/>
<br/>
By Thursday night you're feeling antsy for company, so you summon Gillian to your house and drive out to the deserted parking lot of an elementary school, where you peel off her clothes and nibble her all over while she groans and pants and murmurs your name over and over again. You open up your own trousers, and without being ordered to she sucks you off until you cum. After that, you wrap arms around each other and hold each other until she starts to snore softly and your own eyes close. You drive home after she's woken from her cat nap.<br/>
<br/>
Friday afternoon, after school, you meet up special with Susie, to confirm that she's got a special date. "Yes, it's all set up," she groans. "I'm meeting him at a party."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome." You hand her a mask and a mind-band. "I didn't glue them together," you explain, "'cos I figure it'll be easier to get the mind-band onto him. Like, you can palm it. Then when that's done with him but he's still knocked out, you can drop the mask on him. We can glue them together afterward."<br/>
<br/>
"This better be worth it," she grumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"You should already know if it is." You return her frown with a smirk. "I thought you already sucked him off."<br/>
<br/>
She punches you in the side of the head.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Friday night is another game night with Christian and the guys, but this time there's pizza, and Eric Kim closes up early so he can join you. You have a hard time concentrating, though, for you're distracted by thoughts of Caleb and his mission for you. In fact, you're so distracted that after you've finished your share of the pizza you turn management of Tiny over to Eric and leave. But you can't concentrate back at your house either, and bemuse yourself into boredom by anticipating the adventure to come: <i>Make that mask. Make another mind-band. Put on the mask. Go out to the college. Slap the new mind-band onto the professor. Take it all home. Put on the mind-band. Figure out how to fix my dad ...</i><br/>
<br/>
You sigh deeply. <i>As. If.</i> Your eye will keep recurring to the books you bought, now piled up on your desk. They haven't done you a lot of good, though one of the margin notes has referenced a book on magic sigils. Unfortunately, a web search only turns up copies kept in the special collections at libraries in places like Oxford, where they are only accessible to scholars.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, I didn't get you a copy of that guy," Susie says with a yawn when you meet her Saturday morning for breakfast. She's not only got the yawns, but also the most impressive case of bed-head you've ever seen. Her mane of hair flies out in all directions, like she brushed it while gripping an electric fence in her free hand. "I think I got you someone just as good, though."<br/>
<br/>
You're sitting in Salvation Donuts, a shop that's owned by the family that runs the Agape Christian Academy. Braydon loves to loiter there with coffee and a donut while wearing his most blasphemous and Satanic-looking gear. You've toned it down this morning, though, and have contented yourself with a vintage Black Sabbath t-shirt (horned skull and dancing skeletons) and the bicycle-chain necklace. "What happened?" you ask as you slurp your coffee.<br/>
<br/>
"My date wasn't interested in me. Can you believe it?" She paws at her hair, and yawns. "Guys can be such shits, you know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you get <i>anyone?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, I got you someone. One of the guys whose house it was. It was a real rager. House, front yard and back yard all packed. Anyway, I followed one of the guys outside and down the street, 'cos I didn't think I was gonna be able to get anyone without being a total slut about it, and I wasn't gonna do <i>that.</i> I caught up to him, talked to him, got the stuff onto him and then ran off."<br/>
<br/>
"Lemme see."<br/>
<br/>
She pulls the mask and mind-band out of her purse. You whistle at the tongue twister of a name on the band. "The guy's from Italy?"<br/>
<br/>
"Was he?" She peers at the band, then shrugs. "He didn't have an accent. When are you going to use it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Probably Monday after school."<br/>
<br/>
"At least I didn't have to fuck him." She crinkles her nose at someone behind your shoulder, and you glance back to see the fat woman who owns the place scowling at you. "I want a girlfriend," Susie resumes in a loud voice, and she stretches her arms. "Someone with big tits I can suck on."<br/>
<br/>
You smile and scratch your eyebrow, but you also take off soon afterward. Even Braydon has his limits on how far he'll go in taunting the opposition.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You glare at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Braydon's mom is gone, and you've divested yourself of Braydon's mask. You're wearing the mind-band that Caleb got for you—the first step in finding out if the guy he got will work for your plan.<br/>
<br/>
He could work a little too well.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132111341123221
author_id: seuzz
title: When Quest Hooks Cross
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're halfway through the printed briefing before you notice that a muscle in your head has started to throb. You ignore it until you catch yourself rubbing a spot just behind and above your left year. That's when you pad into the kitchen to get an aspirin. <i>Better to pop one pill to kill a migraine before it starts,</i> your brother has told you—one of the few times you've been happy to accept his advice—<i>than to pop two to make it go away.</i><br/>
<br/>
But as you're shaking a capsule into your hand you hesitate long enough to concentrate on the muscle that's bothering you. That's when you realize it's one of your numinous muscles, not a physical one.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck. Those only act up when there's something bothering you.</i> You drop the capsule back in the bottle and return to the living room, where you sit cross-legged in the middle of the floor and meditate.<br/>
<br/>
Bit by bit your review the major aspects of the assignment: A dead woman. A stolen legacy. A long-lost grimoire. A retrograde <i>Stellae.<br/>
<br/>
Ow.</i> You wince, and surface to feel that muscle throbbing hard.<br/>
<br/>
Bad enough that you and Joe are tasked with tracking down and recovering a book of powerful magic spells. But a book compiled by a renegade member of your own order? That threatens to be very ticklish.<br/>
<br/>
But a grim smile spreads across your face. At least you now know what the throbbing in your head means. It's not a tension that comes from fear. It's a tension that comes from <i>anticipation.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
You jerk your head up, and with a groan squeeze the bridge of your nose. To your surprise—and discomfiture—you find yourself hunched up on Braydon's bed with your legs and feet tucked under you Indian-style. So powerful was the brain-band you put on that as you sank into its memories you actually began to act them out.<br/>
<br/>
Because those weren't your memories that you were reviewing. They were the memories of a student at Eastman High named Frank Durras.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Why'd you put it in your satchel?" Howie asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Where else would I put it?" Christian retorts.<br/>
<br/>
"The Fire Pit of Nashkrazubal is just at the far end of the Great Hall. You can <i>carry</i> it over to the fire pit in your hands."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said the satchel had a Curse of Biting on it," Darrell says, but Christian's voice rises shrilly over his.<br/>
<br/>
"Why the fuck am I going to drop the most valuable book in the multiverse into a fire pit?" he demands of the game master. "I'm gonna take it back to Minas Fuckburg and sell it!"<br/>
<br/>
Howie's eyes—which even relaxed are as protuberant as a frog's—nearly pop out of his head. "You're gonna <i>sell</i>— You're not gonna destroy the most dangerous magical grimoire in the world?"<br/>
<br/>
"It'll set me up for life. Every wizard back in town will mortgage his staff to get a chance to buy an uber-lich's book of recipes."<br/>
<br/>
Howie gapes at the rest of the table: you (back in Braydon's mask), Darrell, Hugh Flake and his little brother. "Are you guys okay with this?" Howie demands.<br/>
<br/>
"Meh," says Darrell. "It's the end of the campaign anyway, right?" He stretches. Who cares what happens after the curtain falls?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was planning a follow up campaign," Howie says.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, now I'm <i>definitely</i> keeping and selling Count Mummyface's book," Christian says. "With the coin it'll get me, I won't even have to show up for the sequel."<br/>
<br/>
Howie frowns blackly at him, and you face palm. A magical grimoire loose in the big city, thanks to an adventurer's greed ... It's a natural hook for a sequel storyline, and you can't believe Howie doesn't see it.<br/>
<br/>
But probably Howie's already sketched out a plot line for sending your next group plunging through the Forest of Fuckdiddily and into the Mountains of Masturbation in quest of some giant diamond that's needed to forge the Cosmic Gauntlet of Jerkoffitude, and he'll stubbornly insist on sticking to it. <br/>
<br/>
Howie and Christian are still arguing when the bell over the comic shop's door chimes. Gillian comes in, smiling that tight, mischievous smile she puts on when she's pissed about something but is trying to hide it. She grabs you by the ears and starts fiddling with them. "Hey, are you guys done with my hubby yet?" she asks the table.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm done with them," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Point of order," Christian says, and raises a long, skinny finger. "I call for a vote of confidence and the installation of a new game master."<br/>
<br/>
<i>"What?"</i> Howie barks. "I told you, I'm already halfway through developing a follow up—"<br/>
<br/>
"Which is why I'm seconding my own motion."<br/>
<br/>
"You can't do that!"<br/>
<br/>
"Since when do we have votes and stuff?" Hugh asks. <br/>
<br/>
"I nominate Harrison," Gillian says, and Hugh's fourteen-year-old brother jumps in his seat. <br/>
<br/>
"I second the motion," you say. "And with that I have to go," you add, for you've looked around Gillian and spotted a very embarrassed-looking Susie loitering near the register.<br/>
<br/>
"We have to have a vote!" Howie protests.<br/>
<br/>
"No we don't," you retort as you rise. "But if you're going to have a vote, Darrell can cast mine." You clap him on the shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"That's not part of the rules!"<br/>
<br/>
"Christian," you call back as you lead Gillian back into the comic shop proper, "move for a vote on amending the rules. Hell, move for a vote on <i>having</i> rules." Howie's bellowed protests mix with Christian's barking laugh as you saunter out.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you have fun?" Caleb asks when you're in the parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you?" you retort. Susie had to do something with her family, which was the  only reason you spent this Saturday afternoon and evening with Christian's RPG group. "Oh, did you know that Hugh has a crush on you?"<br/>
<br/>
"On Susie?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, on Johansson," you retort. (You've no idea if Hugh has a crush on Susie, but you feel like stirring up trouble.) "Where are we going? I assume we're meeting up someplace," you add, for Gillian and Susie arrived in one car, while you've got Braydon's. Balducci's Pizza, after a little discussion, winds up being the choice of hang out.<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you had some work to do," Susie says when you're seated in a booth and have ordered. The TV in the corner of the room is blaring out a college football game, and that will cover the sound of your conversation, but you've already scoped out the room for evidence of unwanted potential eavesdroppers. "Instead you went off playing with—"<br/>
<br/>
"I did do some work," you retort. "And I had to do some thinking. In the campaign, our adventuring group was trying to recover and destroy an evil grimoire. I thought maybe it would give me some ideas for dealing with our evil grimoire."<br/>
<br/>
Susie's jaw drops open. "That's the stupidest idea you've come up with yet, Prescott."<br/>
<br/>
"You never know where good ideas will come from," you sniff, and take a sip of your Pepsi.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
<i>The book is called the Libra Personae,</i> you wrote while wearing Frank Durras's brain-band earlier in the afternoon. It seemed like a good idea to get down on paper a rough idea of what he knew before you had to disentangle his brain from yours and return to Braydon's mask. <i>It was written in the early 17th century by Hieronymous von Gerssdorff, who was a renegade Stellae.</i><br/>
<br/>
You crossed out "renegade" and replaced it with the more accurate "retrograde." As for what a "Stellae" is ...<br/>
<br/>
<i>The Stellae Errantes is an order of astrologically sensitive people that goes back thousands of years. They possess certain prodigies—</i><br/>
<br/>
You paused and added "things like superpowers" in parentheses after "prodigies," even though it made Frank's personality wince.<br/>
<br/>
<i>—that they use to hunt and destroy evil creatures, black magicians, magical implements, etc. These they regard as too dangerous to be left laying around. There are only three dozen or so Stellae in the entire world, and two of them are here in Saratoga Falls, enrolled at Eastman. They are still in training, and were sent undercover to find the Libra because the Order got news that it was in Saratoga Falls. This is their first real mission.<br/>
<br/>
Their names are Giovanni Braccioforte and Franz Liebesspruch, but they are living here under the names Frank and Joe Durras. Frank's prodigies come from Mars and Saturn, and Joe's from the Sun and Mercury. Joe is the smart one, and Frank is the strong one.</i><br/>
<br/>
You spent a long time chewing on the end of your pen before resuming.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Joe is probably smart enough to figure out the Libra, and maybe to figure out a way to fix Dad. There are other Stellae who probably could too. If I showed them the Libra, and Dad, and explained things, they—</i><br/>
<br/>
Here you stopped, and stopped for good. The <i>Stellae</i> take a very dim view of magicians. They wouldn't kill you—Frank's memories assured you of that—but there wouldn't be any fun times after you came clean with them. At best, they would force you to explain everything to your Dad after they fixed him for you, and that would be horrible enough.<br/>
<br/>
But it would fix things, and wouldn't it be a relief to be rid of the <i>Libra</i> and all the problems that came with it?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
Almost you yielded. But then Braydon's mother came home, and you had to quickly change into his mask. The influence of Frank's personality vanished, and Braydon's came to the fore. Now you're thinking it would be better—and cooler—to score a copy of Joe's brain, and use his knowledge to fix things yourself while allowing yourself to keep the book. <br/>
<br/>
It would still be dangerous to leave them at large, though. Maybe the very best thing would be to hide them under some masks—as you've hidden Gillian under a mask—so they can't get in your way.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
None of this have you told Caleb.</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111321114
author_id: rugal
title: Le Mat
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You spend a few minutes thinking about it before you finally dismiss out of hand the idea of doing anything to her. If you put Caleb into Gillian... well it might be Gillian physically but you would still have a hard time not thinking of Caleb. You'd have to play the roles of Braydon and Gillian which would mean... eugh! It's way too uncomfortable and squicky to think about and you would bet Caleb would likely feel the same way.<br/>
<br/>
And playing a role? Maybe you're getting a little too absorbed into playing Braydon. You want to restore your dad of course but it's so easy to slip into the role of someone else and around Gillian you find yourself playing Braydon a little too well when it comes to viewing her as distracting you from what's important. Not that Gillian isn't important of course but for Braydon it's like there's two streams of importance and rarely does he want them to cross. That's also why finding one of Gillian's friends is a likely bust; Braydon doesn't interact with them regularly enough.<br/>
<br/>
But Caleb <i>has</i> been bugging you about masks and girls so maybe you should find something for him. Put him in a position where he can likely help you out as well. Not somewhere that could distract Gillian likely but if the two of you were on slightly more equal footing...<br/>
<br/>
It's not a surefire idea and it might not totally please him but it might be a good first step in mollifying him all the same so take out your phone and shoot some texts Caleb's way asking him to bring over a blank mask and the other usual items. Impatiently you wait in your bedroom until your phone buzzes and uncharacteristically you jolt off of the bed and dash to the front door.<br/>
<br/>
"You're a lifesaver," you state with relief as Caleb steps past you and into the unused dining room.<br/>
<br/>
"You sound like you know who you're going after," he mutters as he sets his bag and pulls out the materials you'll be needing. "Wish you'd fucking tell me."<br/>
<br/>
You can only grunt a response at first but it doesn't take you long to say more. "I don't," you tell him, "all I know is... you wanted a girl right? The only one I really have access too is Gillian and I don't think you want Braydon's dick tickling the back of your throat."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's expression says it all.<br/>
<br/>
"But I'll go out and find something for you and if I can't get to them now," you shrug, "well I'd at least have a target for when we're at school."<br/>
<br/>
"And I needed to bring you all of this for <i>that</i>," he scoffs.<br/>
<br/>
But you dismiss his flippant skepticism and then dismiss him as you hustle Caleb out of the door. You promise him that you'll message him as soon as you've at least got a name and you'll see what you can do from there. He's still a little surly over it but probably realizing there's not much else he can do he leaves and you once more sigh with relief. Quickly you go back inside and gather up what he'd left -- the blank mask with attached band, the golem goop and a brush -- before making sure to grab the grimoire and a bag to put it in and head back outside, locking up before heading off to your destination.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
A destination that turns out to be none other than Besandwiched, one of a number of creepy and kooky eateries and coffee shops that dot the area around Keyserling. But you're not here to eat. Rather, you're here for something, no some<i>one</i>, far more important.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh. It's you," the waitress mutters as she approaches your table.<br/>
<br/>
"Do you give all your customers that attitude?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only the ones that really deserve it," she huffs. "Where's your girlfriend?" You can only shrug which causes her to shake her head. "So what are you having or did you come here just to bug me?"<br/>
<br/>
"Actually, Ursula, that <i>is</i> why I came here," you admit. This causes the girl to give you a queer look. "It's not about that, lord no," you cringe. Instead you dig through the bag sitting next to you and pull the grimoire out. "I thought you might have an interest in this."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula leans over and eyes the cover. Gingerly she reaches out a hand and opens it and you watch as her eyes scan the title page. Then watch as she flips through and skims the rest of the pages before getting to the one still unopened. "It's ripped? I can see something written there but," she leans in and squints, concentrating hard but eventually pulls back and, looking unsteady on her feet, plants a hand on the table. "Why was it all shifting?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
You don't answer her, at least not directly. "Try to turn the page," you tell her.<br/>
<br/>
So she does but after a few attempts that get nowhere she gives up. "This is a neat trick Braydon but I'm not stupid enough to fall for your bullshit--"<br/>
<br/>
"It's not bullshit," you insist, "not like... well none of it's bullshit but this is something that's got even me stumped. Can you take a break?"<br/>
<br/>
Ursula glowers at you but she turns back to the book and back to that page. She studies it for a moment before lifting her head up with a sigh. "I guess I can take it a little early," she says as she starts to walk away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Where'd you get this?" asks Ursula as she closes the rear passenger side door, the book laid out between the two of you. You'd suggested the backseat for the room making it easier for you both to look at the book.<br/>
<br/>
"A friend," you say cautiously. "He didn't tell me where he found it, he just said that it might be something I'd get more use out of than he would."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula looks at the book, the page showing the completed mask and brain band, intently. She seems absorbed in it before eventually flipping back to the ripped page. "Well for sure like you said it's not bullshit like the rest of your trinkets and books," she states and that gets a rise out of you. Well the part of you that's dealing with Braydon's own mind and emotions anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Ursula, like Braydon, is very much into the occult but Braydon can't help but think of her as just some silly girl more into the idea of tarot and astrological mumbo jumbo than anything real. But of course, as she just showed, she can't help but think of him as a poseur himself, a bigger LARPer than his RPG buddies. Is it any wonder that the two are so perfectly able to get under one another's skin?<br/>
<br/>
But you let the comment pass without arguing back. You need to work on getting her guard lowered. "So what do you think?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I think that it would require the help of a real expert," she says with defeat. "I wonder if I could talk to Priscilla about it..."<br/>
<br/>
"Who's that?"<br/>
<br/>
"Priscilla? She runs Tempting Fates," she replies without looking up from the book. "I apprentice over there on the days I don't have work. She knows her stuff so if we took it to her she might be able to help."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula still seems to be engaged in the book and realizing you might not have any better of a shot than now you reach into the bag and pull out the blank mask. But before you can jam it onto her face she looks up and spots the mask. "That's one of the masks that's in the book?" she asks as she grabs it from you before you can do anything.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, yeah," you sputter as you're thrown for a loop. "Like the book says, it'll copy whoever you put it on and once it's sealed if you put the mask on you turn into whoever it copied. That's the purported effect anyway. I haven't tested it myself."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," she says as she hands you back the mask. "Though I don't know why you're bullshitting me on that last part."<br/>
<br/>
"Come again?"<br/>
<br/>
"You told me when we were walking out here that you have to do each spell to unlock the next page. If you hadn't tested it, then you'd never have gotten this far in the book right?" She grills you. That's surprising but it's what she says next that really knocks you back. "You used it on Braydon after all."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes go wide. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you state warily.<br/>
<br/>
"Please," she rolls her eyes. "It's your aura. Everybody's is unique, it's the basic starting point of divination after all; you can't trace someone's path if there's no 'scent' to latch onto. I'm used to Braydon's and yours is not his. So who are--"<br/>
<br/>
But, panicking, you cut her off by jabbing the mask on her face before she can react. Just what in the hell was <i>that</i>? Auras and... what? Somehow she saw through you. And that name she said; Priscilla. When you'd been looking at people who might be able to help you Priscilla Martin was one that came up and though your dad's knowledge has largely faded you do remember that she's a cousin of yours who runs a fortune telling shop... kind of hard to forget finding out you have long lost family members in town after all.<br/>
<br/>
Is this the same Priscilla? If nothing else it appears that Ursula is far less of a poseur than Braydon had taken her for and if nothing else investigating her fortune telling tutor might yield some results. Which is why you wonder if maybe you should do it yourself. Caleb would be mad but you can always find someone else and this seems like too important of a lead to trust to someone else, especially if it's your own family that's involved.<br/>
<br/>
But if Ursula knows more than Braydon thought and she knows <i>you're</i> not Braydon... and if you needed to deal with an overly affectionate girlfriend distracting you... A thought crosses your mind as you look at the unconscious Ursula and wait for the mask to emerge. You might just have stumbled upon an effective solution to the Gillian problem.</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113211143
author_id: rugal
title: Foggy Vision
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As Ursula lays there in the back seat of Braydon's car you can't help but to examine her. As they're open the first thing you're drawn to are her eyes, dark and foggy gray ones that seem to peer intently and seriously at you... or beyond you. Does she see those auras, as she called them, with those eyes? How does something like that even work if she is indeed telling the truth? Well once you or Caleb are inside her mask you'll figure it out you suppose.<br/>
<br/>
So you put it out of your mind and move to the rest of her. Ursula's face isn't what you would call beautiful or cute but neither is she ugly or plain. Her nose is a little prominent, her jaw a little wide. It's a face that's both vaguely handsome and pretty, framed by dirty blonde hair in a pageboy that, though it's not the case due to her position, hangs just below her jaw. She looks to be a little on the skinnier side as well though through the dark, almost foggy (there's that word again) purple polo you can certainly make out the curvature of her breasts, right where the Besandwitched logo is embroidered on the left side. And those breasts look surprisingly not that bad given her frame. Certainly nothing compared to Gillian's but...<br/>
<br/>
You stop yourself. Gillian... so cute and vivacious but also a distraction. A distraction that you might not mind but Braydon certainly does at times. If she was going to be around so much though then why not have it work to your advantage? Because as you think and wait for the mask the idea of bringing Ursula in as a partner by having her wear a mask of Gillian starts to sound more appealing and more rational.<br/>
<br/>
It certainly carries with it risks, namely that you don't know if Ursula would go for it or what her intentions might be. But for as much as Braydon might look down on her there's nothing in his own thoughts of her to make you think she's untrustworthy either which isn't quite the same as trustworthy admittedly. So you continue to wait and when you see a glow on her face, you snatch up the mask. However you don't just push her out of the car and take off either. You instead watch as she stirs, shakes out the cobwebs, looks at you with surprise and then narrows those gray eyes and now you know she's looking right at you.<br/>
<br/>
"What did you do? How long was I--" She stops herself as she notices the mask in your hands. "You didn't... you used that on <i>me</i>?" she asks incredulously.<br/>
<br/>
"Not for anything weird, well perverted, I promise!" you exclaim defensively. "I freaked out because you, uh, saw through me. Saw through <i>this</i>," you gesture towards yourself. "I don't know if you were just bullshitting and got a lucky guess but I was surprised and... intrigued I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh..."<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I want your help," you tell her. "You saw the book and I just... the mask, right? So you know it's real. That stuff about auras too, I want to talk to you about it. About all of this."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula merely eyes you skeptically and is quiet for what feels like an eternity before she takes her phone out. She grumbles as she looks at it and shoves it back into her pocket. "I'm already late coming back from break," she mutters. "I get off at eight."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, well I promised Gillian I'd meet up with her here at six-thirty so maybe we can..."<br/>
<br/>
"I get off at eight," Ursula simply reiterates. "Come by my place afterwards and we can talk. You're, whoever you are, Braydon right now right? He knows where I live. Also, that mask. I don't want you running around with all of <i>my</i> stuff until we're on the same page so I want to keep it with me for right now."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the mask and the name that's emblazoned now on the inside -- <i>URSULA INGRID JENSEN</i> -- and with a sigh hand it over to her. If nothing else it'll be a sign of good faith on your part.<br/>
<br/>
"I'll put it in my car," she says as she examines it. "Remember, my place after eight. And I want to see you as yourself, if we're going to work together I want to know who I'm really dealing with."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Getting everything ready and pulling it off turns out to be both a bigger hassle than you'd have liked and easier than you expected. You have to call Caleb up and tell him you'll need to access the basement and when he shows up it's you getting grilled on who you picked and all the usual stuff and he complains when you grab a blank mask, graveyard dirt and matches. You lie and tell him you left the other at home and because you're on a tight schedule with Gillian you don't have time to go back to Braydon's.<br/>
<br/>
That done you call your doppelganger and have him come by Braydon's to drop off a pair of your own clothes.<br/>
<br/>
Once it gets close to six-thirty you head out to Besandwitched to meet up with Gillian. Conversation is light as you eat and you try to keep up Braydon's normal attitude towards Ursula. After paying, you tell Gillian to wait as you have a surprise for her and you'll text her when it's ready. Once in the backseat of Braydon's care you remove his mask, golemize it and get dressed in your clothes... a tall order in the backseat. You then grab Braydon's phone and text Gillian that you got something for her. Once she comes she has no time to react before you slap the blank mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
Once the mask has finished copying you quickly throw Braydon's onto her, have the new Braydon switch into his clothes, gather up all of Gillian's things -- mask included -- and send him on his way. Taking Gillian's keys, you get in her car and drive around with no particular destination for the next forty-five minutes or so until it finally hits eight.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So this is a mask of..."<br/>
<br/>
"Gillian," you say as you watch Ursula look at the mask. The pair of you are in her room. "I figured that if we were going to work together it would be easiest if we were in a position where we'd be around each other a lot. That and Braydon's always worried about," you sigh, "not that he's bored of Gillian or anything but he thinks of her as a distraction some times."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula can only shake her head. "He's such an arrogant dick," she states. "So where's the real Gillian?"<br/>
<br/>
"Under his mask. There's a process you can do to a mask where it puts the person wearing it under your control," you explain. "I didn't want to do it to Gillian's mask since, you know, you'd be wearing it. But once you're in there I'll switch back to being him."<br/>
<br/>
"So what about the real Gillian after that?"<br/>
<br/>
"I figured we could use your hair to treat that mask of you and put it on her," you tell her. "That spell I mentioned is based on whoever's hair is used so if it's your mask I figured you'd want control of it."<br/>
<br/>
"I see," she says and though she looks at the mask she puts it down.<br/>
<br/>
After arriving you'd explained everything to Ursula: who you were, what was going on with your dad and just now everything about the book. She'd listened quietly but, as her face gave away, intently as she took in everything you said. "Alright so since I've told you everything I think it's your turn," you tell her. "What's all of this stuff about auras?"<br/>
<br/>
She's silent for a moment before speaking. "It's hard to explain," she states. "I only understand a little bit and only because of stuff Priscilla's told me or what I find in books. But everyone has an aura and everybody's is unique, like fingerprints. When I'm divining I'll latch onto it. It's like a road the tarot is sort of like a navigation system, I guess. I don't really know how else to describe it."<br/>
<br/>
"So, what, you look at me and you see, like, glowy stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing like that," she shakes her head, "well not exactly. It's not something you sense like you would when, say, seeing a bird or smelling food. I do see <i>something</i> but that's probably just some trick my brain's doing so I can comprehend it I think."<br/>
<br/>
"Can everyone do it? See these auras?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. I don't think so," she says. "Priscilla told me it's a rare thing, at least. She likened it to oracles from ancient Greece and how there wasn't, you know, thousands of them."<br/>
<br/>
You're still not sure how much of this you're buying but if it gets her to ease up, come more onto your side then you're willing to press on. "Okay, so does everything have an aura? Like if you looked at some gun used in a murder could you use the aura to find the killer?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing like that; psychometry's garbage and I've never seen verified accounts of it in the books I've read," she says with more than a bit of a sneer. "Only living things have auras, not inanimate objects." She's been staring more or less at nothing this whole time but now her gray eyes are turned once more on you and there's an unease in them. "That's what threw me for a loop when you came into the cafe. That's why I was so quick to talk to you and agree to hear you out now."<br/>
<br/>
"What, because of my aura?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only a little bit because when I saw your aura didn't match with Braydon's I <i>was</i> curious," she admits. "But I just told you that inanimate objects don't have them, right?" she replies. "Because that's what bugged me more. Why does a book have an aura?"</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132111431
author_id: rugal
title: The Oracle of Saratoga Falls
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What do you mean the book has an aura?"<br/>
<br/>
That's certainly a shocking statement on her part. So shocking that you wonder once more if she's just jerking you around. But if she's just messing with you then you're not sure what she'd be getting out of it. Though Braydon's memories have already started to fade, there's still enough there to let you know that wrongheaded as she might be in his eyes, Ursula's interests have gone back for as far as the couple of years he's known her. That and though she's not totally humorless she's not the type for practical jokes either so amusement wouldn't really factor into it.<br/>
<br/>
And if she has been messing with you then she better be part of the theater kids at Eastman because though what she's been explaining is couched in all sorts of qualifiers -- Priscilla said this or I read that or I think -- than firm definitives she says it with enough conviction to at least make you believe that she believes it which means that she's either a good enough actress to fool you, is completely deluded herself or she's telling the truth.<br/>
<br/>
For the time being you're willing to lean on that last option.<br/>
<br/>
"It's exactly what I just said," she states as she shifts uncomfortably. "When you showed me that book I could immediately sense... something, and then as I flipped through it was stronger. When I got to that ripped page it was clear as day. I was so surprised but it was unmistakable: that book has an aura."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay," you say as you eye her cautiously waiting for any hint of the facade to drop, "so what are you saying then? That the book's alive? You just told me inanimate objects don't have these auras."<br/>
<br/>
"They don't!" she exclaims defensively but quickly her tone changes to one that's less confident. "At least, I'm sure they don't. Everything I've read about divination, auras, life energy; everything that Priscilla's told me..." She continues to shift and her gaze turns away from you. "But I'm still a novice at all of this. Maybe I'm wrong, or I've been misreading things or reading bad books or maybe Priscilla's been keeping things from me. Maybe... maybe there is life in inanimate objects and she didn't think I needed to know that yet or..."<br/>
<br/>
At this point your doubts about her sincerity are melting away. Whether or not she actually <i>can</i> see these auras you can tell that Ursula herself believes she can and that's good enough for you to at least cautiously trust her. But seeing that book and it's supposed aura seems to have triggered some kind of minor existential crisis in her<br/>
<br/>
"Are you alright?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Yeah, I'm... sorry," she mutters as she turns back to you. "But seeing something that goes against what I've been taught and what I've learned is enough to make my head swim."<br/>
<br/>
"How long have you known about this? Divination and auras and all of it?" You figure that maybe talking about it, about herself, will be enough to get her back on track. It seems to be the right call because Ursula's body language, heavily guarded and tense, slackens just a bit.<br/>
<br/>
"High school," she tells you. "Maybe ninth grade? That's when I first really started noticing things. I could see the auras and I could see where they led but it was like trying to walk down a small path in a dense forest blanketed in fog. Some times I could stumble across something and I could see someone's immediate future but a lot of times it was stumbling around blindly."<br/>
<br/>
"What'd people think about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't tell them of course," she replies and her tone is much lighter than it had been up to this point. "I sort of tried to forget it. But Eileen had these tarot cards as like a joke. We were messing with them and when I was using them, that fog started to lift a bit and the path was a little more clear. So I saw something, about her and a boy she liked and how it would turn out. We laughed about it but later in the week it turned out exactly like I said."<br/>
<br/>
"So you started taking it more seriously at that point?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Mhm. Not immediately but gradually," she explains. "Tarot decks, zodiac signs, astrology and all of that. I really started getting absorbed into it and I'd wound up becoming the eccentric fortune teller girl before I actually realized what was happening."<br/>
<br/>
You can feel the air growing less heavy so you press on. "So how long have you been with this Priscilla woman?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe about a month or two, since late in the summer," she tells you. "I'd gone into her shop to buy a tarot deck and we got to talking. I guess she liked what I'd said and the questions I'd asked because when I told her it was hard learning on my own she offered to teach me a little bit. But I'm really glad she did because it feels like I've learned more in two months than I did in two years."<br/>
<br/>
Though her face retains the same sternness you've been seeing you think you can also see the faint hints of contentment as her gray eyes continue to size you up.<br/>
<br/>
"So what about the book?" she asks. "Maybe we can look at it and try to puzzle some things out."<br/>
<br/>
It's here that you want to face palm as you dig through the stuff you'd brought. "I think I left it with, uh, Braydon. The golem Braydon," you admit. "I guess I can call him up and have him bring it by. I'll need to be getting back under his mask anyway."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula doesn't respond to that directly beyond a simple nod. Instead she stares straight ahead and is quiet until you're done with your call to the golem, made easy thanks to having Gillian's phone. "Thank you Will," she finally says. "Having someone to talk about that stuff with who actually takes it seriously or isn't Braydon is something that's been frustrating me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, sure. No problem, I mean if we're going to be partners and all," you reply. "Speaking of, he's on his way."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay. Well, I want to pay you back beyond just partnering with you on this book," she says as she hops up and rummages around inside a drawer. She pulls out a tarot deck and you notice that even the sternness has faded away from her face. "Let me show you a bit of what I can do."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You look at the cards laid before you. One, the major one, is certainly the spookiest and Ursula seems to notice your reaction. "It doesn't mean you're going to die. It represents great change, new ways of thinking. Big things are going to happen and the person that emerges won't be the same as the person who went in," she tells you.<br/>
<br/>
"Take this one," she says as she points to the two of cups, "it represents intense bonding, new relationships."<br/>
<br/>
"Like romance?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Maybe," she answers coyly, "or any two entities or groups... anything really." She then points to another, the page of swords. "This one, meanwhile, is all about curiosity and new ideas. It's also about finding new ways to express yourself, your ideas and your thoughts." Finally she points to three of pentacles. "Now this card is all about cooperation, that new things can be built and great things can be accomplished but only by working with others."<br/>
<br/>
"So what's it all mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"With your aura, the path it carves and with the tarot helping point the way... I can't give definitives, not yet anyway," she admits. "I'm not that good yet. But I can say that things will change for you considerably, more than they already have and that it's going to be through the new bonds you'll create, ones that will become closer than any you've had, and new discoveries that it'll be accomplished. That it's going to be very tough but in the end you'll be glad to have gone through it. Sorry if that all sounds like vague nonsense."<br/>
<br/>
"No, it's fine. I guess I can see what it's talking about, new bonds and teamwork and all that," you admit. "I mean the two of us are going to be working together on the book right? And once I'm back in Braydon's mask and you're in Gillian's that'll solve the issue of us not going to the same school."<br/>
<br/>
"I've been thinking about that actually," Ursula states which receives an inquisitive response. "Even if it's not really Braydon... I just really don't like him. Even if I can see your aura I'll still see his face and just... and doing it as Gillian too, having to canoodle and suck face with... eugh," she shivers.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"When you got here, you commented that we lived surprisingly close," she states; and you do. Ursula's a bit southeast of your own neighborhood in Acheson, across State Avenue. "If you'd go back to being yourself then it'd be just as easy to get together and look at the book since we'd only be a couple of minutes away from each other."<br/>
<br/>
"There's a lot of masks that would need to be switched around if that were the case," you tell her. "Plus the awkwardness of being at my house with a fake dad and all."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," she nods, "and I'm sorry. I'll help out with your dad too in any way that I can. But still," she trails off and is back to shifting uncomfortably. "I could find someone else for you to be. Someone that would allow us to talk regularly if you'd be willing to make another switch."<br/>
<br/>
"Priscilla?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, maybe. I'd have to think," she says as she continues to shift. "Ugh but if you don't want to," she breathes in deeply, "I guess I can be Gillian. I'd rather not but it's your book and you're the one who showed me all of this. We don't know each other, not really but... if you feel like that's the best way to go I can try to suck it up. I'll show you a little bit of trust."</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111321114313
author_id: rugal
title: A Very Cosmic Confluence
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're not really sure how to respond and you realize that it was probably a little arrogant of you to think you could just shove something like this -- hey I'm going to be Braydon and you should be his girlfriend so we can study the book -- onto her and just expect Ursula to nod her head and go with it no questions asked. She doesn't even known you, not really, so you really shouldn't be forcing her into doing it if she's not into the idea and she most definitely does not seem to be into it.<br/>
<br/>
"If you don't want to do it," you tell her, "well, I'm sure we can find something that works. We're partners in this now so I don't want to force it on you or anything."<br/>
<br/>
Maybe you <i>are</i> being arrogant because you half-expect her to protest a little bit, insist that it's fine and she'll do it. So though you shouldn't be you're a little surprised when she doesn't. "Thanks, I wasn't really looking forward to doing that," she says as she gathers up the cards.<br/>
<br/>
Given that it's a bust you decide to switch tracks a bit since you're still not sure what you want to do then. "So what about Priscilla? What can you tell me about her?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Not much beyond what I've already told you," she says as she walks over to the drawer. "She's cagey about things though."<br/>
<br/>
"Like what she teaches?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not that," she answers, "more like herself, like she doesn't like to put the real her out there. She even talks to customers in this weird, really fake Eastern European accent even though I think she's as American as either of us. She's never let me do any readings for her either, just to practice. Kind of weird that she'd let me practice with customers but I guess she's one of those 'the only way to learn is by doing' types." Ursula then shuts the drawer and turns back to you. "Why so interested in her?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Just curiosity I guess," you say but decide that maybe it'd help to be a little less cagey yourself with her. "When I was looking for leads on magic, a cousin of mine was one of the name's I got from my dad's mask. I don't remember a lot but I do remember a few things. Her name was Priscilla as well, Priscilla Martin. Did you ever say what your mentor's last name was?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't actually know it," Ursula admits but her face shows definite intrigue. "Why would her name come up though?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because she runs a fortune telling business in town. Not that I remember the name of it, just that my dad didn't like it and that's why I've never seen her," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"So your cousin and my mentor... they're one and the same?" she asks in surprise.<br/>
<br/>
You can only shrug. "I don't really know. Probably," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think there's any probably about it. The only other fortune teller in town is Madame Andrassy but she's two-bit," she says as she walks over and sits down beside you. To your surprise she clasps your hands and her manner is, though still low key, a very excited low key. "Your cousin, my mentor... this is what I mean about strong new bonds being formed. It's like our fates are connected, this is so exciting!"<br/>
<br/>
"Did you, uh, see yourself in my... thing?" you ask nervously now you feel your hands getting clammy.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't say," she admits. "I couldn't make out the specifics but knowing this information it would make sense. Oh, but I <i>have</i> to see it play out now! To see where your trials will take you... will take <i>me</i>!" To your surprise she leans in close, her face inches from your own. "Your aura and mine, intertwined with one another, each pulling the other with it," she says with quiet excitement, "doesn't it just take your breath away to discover it?"<br/>
<br/>
"You, uh, you make it sound like we're soulmates," you nervously reply.<br/>
<br/>
At that Ursula seems to come to her senses and, red-faced, backs off and lets go of your hands. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... oh, but I guess it probably came off like that," she says in embarrassment. "But I've never seen something like this and I just... I get very excited about this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"I can tell," you say and though you laugh it's a very awkward thing.<br/>
<br/>
It's also what makes up your mind for you because if you're going to be yourself then in addition to the awkwardness of living with a fake dad, there's this potential awkwardness as well. Not that you wouldn't mind the idea of Ursula being that close to you or closer, even. But you originally did all this to deal with a distraction and it might not be a good idea to exchange one for another. And you don't want to give yourself the wrong idea either because of course her interest and excitement is because of all this stuff about aura, fates, the magic of the book and whatever.<br/>
<br/>
Not like she could harbor any romantic designs on someone she only really has gotten to know over the last hour.<br/>
<br/>
"So, the masks," you start as you try to change topics. "I'd still be uncomfortable at home given everything so if you want to try to find someone..."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, okay," she says nervously. "But I don't know how I'd do it. I just put the mask on them and what?"<br/>
<br/>
"You don't need to worry about it," you tell her. "Just set up some kind of meeting between you and whoever and I'll take care fo the rest."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"She could've at least given you her mask. Not really fair that I get to be the one having all the fun," Gillian grins though quickly that grin turns into an expression of frustration. "How the fuck do girls do this?" she asks as she struggles with the bra.<br/>
<br/>
"So you're really not pissed I was bullshitting you about what was going on?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"If you'd gotten me, like, Abby Derr or something I might be," she replies. "But Gillian's a great piece so I'll live."<br/>
<br/>
"You'll also have to play tonsil hockey with Braydon," you tease.<br/>
<br/>
Gillian makes a face at that. "Not appealing but I guess sacrifices have to be made to keep my hands on these," she says as she grabs and shakes her impressive breasts at you.<br/>
<br/>
After leaving Ursula's you'd gotten in touch with Caleb and had him meet you at the clubhouse where you told him the truth about everything that was going on and while he was miffed your peace offering of Gillian's mask more than did it's job in smoothing things over. As a result you'll be spending time in Caleb's mask until Ursula's got something lined up for you, something you made sure to fill her in on before leaving. You've got some goop made with Caleb's hair ready to go for when that switch needs to go off. It's only fair that he'd get his own golem after all.<br/>
<br/>
"I need to build trust with her and I don't think I can really do that if she thinks I'm using her mask to do who knows what with her body."<br/>
<br/>
"It wouldn't be anything I'm not going to do with Gillian's," she says as she finally manages to get the bra done and moves onto the underwear and jeans.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, that's the problem," you grumble.<br/>
<br/>
"She's not a dog is she?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop thinking with your dick, dude," you tell him. "But no, she's not ugly. Like I said it's all about trust."<br/>
<br/>
"Well from what you said it sounds like you'll be getting to do whatever to her body before long," she states. "Will and his loony fortune teller girlfriend."<br/>
<br/>
"She's not a loon!" you exclaim.<br/>
<br/>
"But she <i>is</i> your girlfriend?" she teases as she throws on her shirt.<br/>
<br/>
You shove the rest of Gillian's stuff into her arms and hustle her up the stairs and shut the door behind you. As you're not really in any rush to get back to Caleb's yet you take some time to make up and polish a mask as well as a brain band just to make one hundred percent certain you're ready to go when the time comes. It's a good thing too as once you're at Caleb's you receive a text.<br/>
<br/>
<i>this is the number you gave me? it's ursula,</i> you read so you shoot back a positive response and ask her what's up. <i>i thought about it and i've got some names for you.</i><br/>
<br/>
Three of the four names mean nothing to you as you assume they're students she knows from Eastman. You echo this sentiment in another text back to her and decide to ask about them all in turn.<br/>
<br/>
<i>maddy caron?</i><br/>
<br/>
A decently popular gossip she tells you; very pretty, very composed but with an underlying superstitious streak that means her and Ursula's paths cross frequently enough when she feels she needs reassurance or clarity on some matter or the other.<br/>
<br/>
<i>joshua cheswick?</i><br/>
<br/>
A friend, she tells you. Very creative and open-minded and given that the type of person that might be a good fit for you what with the Page of Swords and its emphasis on things of that nature.<br/>
<br/>
<i>eileen piper?</i><br/>
<br/>
Another friend comes the answer, one of Ursula's best; the same Eileen she'd mentioned when talking about her first time using tarot cards. The close relationship would probably be the easiest for staying in touch.<br/>
<br/>
But it's that fourth one that really throws you for a loop and you have to make sure to ask if she's serious about putting forward Priscilla's name. It's a series of texts you're greeted by.<br/>
<br/>
<i>yes<br/>
you'd know what she knows<br/>
plus she's where our own fates come together<br/>
i think your path will be seen clearly through her</i><br/>
<br/>
She then tells you to take as long as you need but does give you a timetable of the earliest she might be able to set something up for each of them. Tomorrow for Eileen and Joshua, Monday for Mandy and Priscilla. That indicates that despite what she said she's eager to get it done quickly, an assumption that's reinforced with another message she sends you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>i'm so anxious to see the path that fate's laid out for you!</i></span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113211143131
author_id: rugal
title: The Most Tempting Fate
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Despite her anxiousness however you don't give Ursula an answer. Or rather you do, just not the one she's probably expecting. Instead you tell her that you can't really make a decision like that spur of the moment and that you'll get back to her tomorrow<br/>
<br/>
<i>i have work tomorrow so you'd better tell me early,</i> she responds.<br/>
<br/>
<i>when?</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>2 to 8,</i> she answers. <i>i can help with joshua and eileen before or after work, nbd</i><br/>
<br/>
<i>what about the other 2?</i> you ask.<br/>
<br/>
<i>typically only see maddy in school and priscilla's shop is closed today,</i> comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
You tell her then that you'll think it over and try to give her an answer before she has to go to work and that if you decide to go with one of her friends you have no issue waiting until after she's off of work. She simply sends back an affirmative and tells you that she'll talk to you tomorrow but not before adding that meeting you was interesting. That causes a flutter in your chest but you dismiss it.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you realize that it'll probably be easier having someone to talk through things with before making any kind of a decision and though the peace offering worked well enough you realize you can't leave your best friend completely out of the loop either so you decide to enlist him (her?). It's only when you pull out your phone, Caleb's phone in reality, that you realize your mistake: you don't know Gillian's phone number and Caleb doesn't have it saved in his phone. Why would he?<br/>
<br/>
Braydon's number is in there though for obvious reasons so you're quick to give him a call. When he finally answers you barely let him get a greeting out. Instead you tell him to text Gillian's number to Caleb and then order him not to argue when he starts to try to give you a bit of grief. It's not long before the text message chime goes off and you make sure to save the number then shoot a text to Gillian's phone saying to meet you at the clubhouse around nine in the morning.<br/>
<br/>
You don't get an immediate response back and in fact don't get one by the time you decide to turn in for the night. You can only hope that Caleb's just caught up in getting his fill of Gillian's body instead of blowing you off totally.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"No issues?" you ask Gillian as you flip the light on in the basement. "With the mask I mean. Being Gillian."<br/>
<br/>
"Aside from the fact I had to avoid her home most of the night and had to text the warlock to ask her address since I didn't know where she lives, no," she answers and it's less huffy in tone than the words would suggest.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just that. I didn't have them. Gillian Keifer was there in body but not spirit," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh jeez, I didn't fuck up did I?" you wonder aloud. "I thought I had band on there and everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Well it's mostly fine now. By the time woke up I guess things had sorted themselves out because Gillian definitely was there in spirit too," she grins. "I thought I had a good time last night but knowing all of the little tricks she uses to <i>really</i> get herself going..."<br/>
<br/>
"That's nice, I don't want to hear about it," you state. The idea of Gillian getting herself off is appealing but not so much when you know it's Caleb pulling the levers. "Anyway, I told you that Ursula was going to find a new identity for me right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Uh huh," she responds, "though it seems like a bad idea to leave it in the hands of some wannabe witch who can, like, <i>toootally</i> see auras and the future and everything."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck you man," you say as you shove a middle finger towards her. "You're a guy disguised as a girl from school but what she said's a step too far? Fuck, why am I even going over this? I didn't call you out here to argue."<br/>
<br/>
"Why <i>did</i> you call me out here?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Because she sent me a list," you state as you pull out your phone. "Names of possible people to replace. Most of them don't mean anything so I figured I'd go down the list and get your opinions."<br/>
<br/>
"Any pictures?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only shake your head and then move onto the names. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly given how outgoing she is, Maddy Caron's name rings a bell with Gillian and you realize it's a good thing that whatever issues with her mind Caleb was having before that they seem to be resolved. She's not just any gossip but one of the big ones at Eastman that gather in this little semi-formal group headed up by Alyssa Randall, Chelsea's counterpart at Eastman.<br/>
<br/>
Joshua Cheswick and Eileen Piper are names familiar to Gillian as well as both are regulars at the Warehouse and Gillian's hung out with them at least a few times outside of that environment. "Stoners but kind of mischievous" is how she describes them.<br/>
<br/>
Maddy seems interesting, the other two a little less so, but you're not really sold on any of them either. She asks if there's any other names but you decide to play things close to the vest and leave out any mention of Priscilla and just give a negative response. There's another few minutes of light conversation before Gillian decides to head out.<br/>
<br/>
It's because of that then that you keep reflecting back on your conversation with Ursula and what she had sent you last night.<br/>
<br/>
She was one of the leads you'd gotten from your dad's mask and she just happens to be your cousin <i>and</i> Ursula's mentor? That would all indicate someone with magical knowledge and maybe something a little more useful than Braydon's. You're not the fatalistic type but all roads seem to converge on Priscilla and maybe through her, if not your fate then maybe a way forward in getting back your dad might reveal itself.<br/>
<br/>
So you text her name to Ursula and she's not long in getting a message back to you.<br/>
<br/>
<i>okay. i go there right after school so get there around 4,</i> she tells you.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
<i>What was all of that,</i> you can only wonder as you pull yourself up off of the floor of Tempting Fates' back room.<br/>
<br/>
Visions had flooded your head, memories really. Memories as vivid and familiar as your own. Memories of a girl no older than yourself... no, younger but already with child, receiving the harsh guidance of an old crone. Of that same girl giving her child to the crone at the weathered old woman's insistence and though it pained her knowing that defiance was out of the question. Of the girl's own Promethean tale of stealing knowledge and being driven into exile, forced as a mere girl to make a life for herself in a place she knew nothing of while forever pining for a home she could never return to.<br/>
<br/>
It's the sad tale of Priscilla Martin, the woman whose body and life you now occupy. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself. Not out of any sexual desire as Caleb did after putting on Gillian's mask but to reset yourself, to set your new mind at ease.<br/>
<br/>
Not that the temptation isn't there. Priscilla is certainly an attractive woman. Short with just the slightest bit of meat to make her body feel soft and comfortable. A cute face with large, wide-set eyes that give her an appearance at least a half-decade younger than the early thirties she actually is.<br/>
<br/>
But there will be plenty of time to get intimately acquainted with Priscilla later as right now you need to work on getting settled in... and getting to work on the grimoire and thankfully you hadn't left it with the now golem Caleb like you'd done with the fake Braydon on Saturday. In fact it sits right on the table where you'd left it. You get dressed in Priscilla's clothes, including the elaborate fur-lined kimono, grab the book and head back into the front.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb is gone and Ursula confirms that she flipped the sign to Closed and locked the door. You pull the shades down leaving only the soft lighting of the shop, lay the book onto the table and tell Ursula to come over. "What do you see when you look at it?" you ask her in a soft voice.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"You said it had an aura right? Are you seeing it?"<br/>
<br/>
You open the book and flip to the torn page. You hear Ursula gasp which is basically confirmation enough but it's reinforced when she speaks.<br/>
<br/>
"I can definitely see it, no question."<br/>
<br/>
You look at the book for moment. You squint and focus. "Hey Ursula, Priscilla can see auras too right?" you ask though you know the answer already.<br/>
<br/>
"She'd have to be in order to do what she does as effectively as she does it," she answers.<br/>
<br/>
That gels with the memories you're getting already from Priscilla's mask. Though it's somewhat faint, Priscilla can definitely see something though it's more skill honed from a life time of study. Not every oracle can be as naturally gifted as her apprentice... the thing that initially drew Priscilla to Ursula in the first place. But Priscilla very much has the talent herself which is why you can only sit and grunt in frustration.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?" asks Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
"If Priscilla was looking at this book would she see that aura that you're seeing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, undoubtedly," she says as she pulls a chair around and sits next to you. "Why are you asking?"<br/>
<br/>
"Because," you have to admit, "I don't see anything."</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132111431311
author_id: rugal
title: Hard Work and Natural Talent
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"What do you mean?" asks Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes glance over to catch the confusion that's appeared on her face. "The aura you said this book has," you tell her. "I look at it and all I see is a book. There's no aura."<br/>
<br/>
Ursula's face, still confused, now grows concerned as well. "But it's there!" she declares. "I'm telling the truth and I know that Priscilla should be able to see it too."<br/>
<br/>
You can only sigh. "It's not that I don't believe you," you tell her. "But maybe seeing auras, being a true... oracle is what Priscilla likes to use so we'll go with that. I don't think I can do it."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you said the masks copy the other person totally though," she wonders. "So you should be able to see it if Priscilla can right?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only shake your head. "It's not that it didn't do its job. You can see how I look, and everything that Priscilla knows," you say as you tap a manicured finger to your head, "I know too. But I don't think the masks can copy something like what you or her can do. I know what it is, I know how she uses it for divination, but I guess it's just unique to the person." At that you can only utter another frustrated grunt. "At least that's the only thing that makes sense," you add.<br/>
<br/>
"I see," Ursula says as she shrinks back. "So if you copied me it might have been useless too wouldn't it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd have your knowledge and, frankly, you probably know more than Braydon," you say and hope the little dig at him will pick her up a bit. "But it's probably something unique to you or Priscilla that I just can't copy. I'm sorry Ursula. I had you do this to your teacher and even then... ugh! I should probably get out of this mask then and go with that Maddy girl or something. You probably want the real Priscilla back so she can teach you properly."<br/>
<br/>
She's silent for a moment, those striking smokey eyes studying you intently. It's like they're boring a hole right through you but eventually they lose their hard stare and Ursula slackens a little. "It's fine," she finally says quietly. "If you can think and act like her then you're as much Priscilla as, well, Priscilla. I still see both of our fates entangled together around her so it's probably the correct path anyway." Gingerly she reaches out a hand to place on top of your own but winds up pulling back. "And she's you're cousin as well," she states.<br/>
<br/>
"You know her more than I do but if you think it's for the best," you say as you lean forward to look at the book once more. "In that cae we should get back to the book. Consider getting past this page part of your lesson."<br/>
<br/>
"You say that but it's not like you have any idea how to get by it either," she says.<br/>
<br/>
"No but I think together we can figure it out," you tell her. "But we'll need to start from the beginning."<br/>
<br/>
So you spend the hour going through each page of the book with Ursula in detail, explaining to her each spell, what it does, the sigils that must be drawn, the materials needed and so on. As you do things start to become clearer to you as well. Not just the what the spells do but the underlying mechanics of how they work, the reasoning for the progression, for each symbol, every stroke of what you draw like magical calligraphy.<br/>
<br/>
In this you're helped by Priscilla's mind. Your cousin has spent almost her entire life in pursuit of mystical knowledge. A good number of books -- the real stuff not and not what she sells to the rubes -- are in her back office. Many more at her home. Pursuing knowledge is what led her into her predicament but pursuing it might well lead her out of it. As well, perhaps its just knowledge for knowledge's sake.<br/>
<br/>
As you go through the spells you make sure to watch Ursula. The confusion that first showed itself onto her face changing into amazement, into grim-faced concentration, into enlightened acknowledgment. Finally you're back at the ripped page. "Use me to solve me," she mutters before looking up at you. "That's what you said it says right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Best as I can tell."<br/>
<br/>
"Tell... that's what the book's telling you," she continues muttering as she turns back to the book. "And these ingredients, they're the same as making one of those mind bands, huh? The book, bands..." She continues to mutter, more to herself than to you, but eventually she seems to have an epiphany. "It's so simple! Will, the answer was right in front of you the whole time!" she exclaims.<br/>
<br/>
"What do you mean?" you ask her.<br/>
<br/>
"The book is telling you 'use me to solve me' right?" she asks but doesn't even give you time to answer. "The <i>book</i> is telling you that. The ingredients for one of the mind bands, the aura I saw," she turns to face you and her face is practically beaming with excitement. "Will, the book <i>is</i> alive and it's telling you that you have to use it to get past it."<br/>
<br/>
"Well of course, but why would it also have instructions for..." You stop dead in your tracks. "Wait, you're not telling me," you trail off and face palm. "We have to use a mind band on the book itself?"<br/>
<br/>
"If it's alive then the band can copy it right?" asks Ursula. "So we just need to get one and--"<br/>
<br/>
You shake your head. "That'll be a problem though," you tell her. "I don't have one on me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
What you do have though is money. Not that Priscilla is rich but she lives frugally enough that she's never wanting for extra cash.<br/>
<br/>
So you make a quick run to get the stuff you'll need and when you're back in the shop you get to work with Ursula on making some mind bands. Once done you turn the book to the torn page and place one of them onto it. Ursula gasps as you both watch the band sink into the book. It's a few short minutes that feel like an unbearable eternity but the band reappears. Hastily you snatch it and apply it to the book where it disappears and when you turn the back to the torn page...<br/>
<br/>
Ursula lets out a sound like a joyous squeal. You want to hoot and holler but keep yourself composed. The page is no longer torn and when you attempt to lift it, it turns without issue.<br/>
<br/>
"Ursula, you are <i>amazing</i>," you say with relief as you sink into the chair you're sitting in.<br/>
<br/>
"I... no," she demures. "All I did was solve a riddle."<br/>
<br/>
"A riddle that I couldn't solve. That might've taken Priscilla forever to," you admit for you can feel your cousin's own amazed envy and what's just been accomplished. "It's not just that. Once we started going ever the other spells too you seemed to pick up on it quickly. You grasped it a lot easier than I did when I started."<br/>
<br/>
"I guess," she responds as she paces. "But none of it seemed really hard once you started explaining it. It's just like a math problem, there's an order and a logic to it even if it looks Byzantine at first."<br/>
<br/>
"You must kill it in your math classes then," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"I hate math," she grimaces, "but I love this. Magic and divination, it's so amazing. I probably would've ended up like Eileen without this and I like Eileen a lot but the first time I read her fortune it was like... this is it. This is what I was born to do."<br/>
<br/>
You don't respond to that and instead get ready to send Ursula out. Shes usually expected home by seven so she has time to eat, do her homework and all of that. That and Tempting Fates usually isn't open later than eight or nine, the schedule being a bit fluid in that regard.<br/>
<br/>
"I meant it when I say you're amazing," you tell her as you put the finishing touches on making sure everything's in order. "You're a natural at this. Priscilla thinks so too, I know that much."<br/>
<br/>
"That's nice of you to say," she replies quietly. "But Priscilla still knows more than I ever will."<br/>
<br/>
"You could know it," you tell her which gets audible surprise from her. "If you're uncomfortable with me being her we could always switch. You know, I take over for you while you take over for Priscilla. With your talent and her knowledge we'd probably blaze through the book and find a way to fix my dad."<br/>
<br/>
"I appreciate you taking how I might feel into account but I've already told you that it's not an issue. Tempting as it might be I don't think I'm ready to wear one of those masks either," she replies as you see follow her out the front door to see her off. But her gaze soon gets distracted. "I didn't realize anyone from school hung around here," she says more to herself.<br/>
<br/>
You follow her gaze as a girl -- tiny, stern-faced and Southeast Asian -- walks into Thai Won On. "Priscilla sees her in there all the time, maybe her family owns it or something," you shrug. "You know her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seyha Keo, she's on the swim team. I don't know anything about her beyond that, I was just surprised is all," she answers. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow Pri--uh, Will. I'm eager to see what else that book might have in store for us."<br/>
<br/>
Once she's gone you head back into the shop and flip the sign to Open, not that you're expecting much; Priscilla doesn't tend to get much of any traffic in the hour or two before closing.<br/>
<br/>
Priscilla; your cousin. Lovely and knowledgeable she really does make for a good identity. But even unrefined Ursula put you, put <i>her</i>, to shame. It's not that you want to switch out per se but you can't help but think that Ursula might be able to make better use of her knowledge than you ever could and with the right push you could probably get her under this mask.<br/>
<br/>
The other issue with being Priscilla is the frequency of when you can see her. Priscilla only sees her three times a week on Monday, Tuesday and Thursday for around two hours every day. If only you had a way to see her more frequently...<br/>
<br/>
And of course you do. That girl from Thai Won On goes to the same school, is probably around the same age and works right next door. If you wanted to keep in more frequent contact with Ursula while having easy access to Priscilla's knowledge she'd make for a good spot.</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111321114313111
author_id: rugal
title: The Diviner's Desires
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're quick to realize that another switch will only complicate things needlessly. With the girl from next door for instance, just being at the same school won't put you in direct contact with Ursula. Ursula knows nothing about her beyond a name and the space she occupies at school so if they don't run in the same social circles that might make a switch there pointless. It might seem weird if that girl starts hanging around Ursula after all.<br/>
<br/>
Likewise Ursula seems unwilling to do any kind of swap. Are there things in her head she doesn't want you to know or is it simply nerves about actually using the masks herself? Either way you don't want to risk offending her because you'd hate to see her driven off. She's been a great help already and you want to see just where this partnership will take you.<br/>
<br/>
Instead you go back inside and wait for any customers to show up. While you wait you go back to the book and look at the new spell that should've been unlocked. To your disappointment there doesn't seem to be any ingredients, rather a large paragraph of words that don't mean a thing to you and just seem to be gibberish. Or so it seems at first and it's here that you're really thankful that you've got Priscilla's own mind.<br/>
<br/>
She's studied things like this extensively. Not the book although you know that she's certainly aware of a book like this (and maybe this exact one) that belonged in the crone's collection but rather what these words relate to: sigils. Magic, after all, is a language all its own and Priscilla likes to fancy herself as something of a linguist. You can't help but marvel at the way each word forms but a small piece of a sigil and the way, as you work out each meaning, how each piece would connect. You rush into the back office and search for some blank paper and something to write with.<br/>
<br/>
You head back out and begin to draw out each piece of the sigil as you work out each new word. Once you're done you've got to admire your handiwork. Yes, magic is certainly a language and what you see on that paper is like the most beautiful cursive you've laid your eyes on. Some of what you had to draw was familiar to you as well being somewhat similar to things earlier in the book. That's what gives you the idea to take one of the blank blind bands and, on top of the drawn sigil, begin carving the required runes.<br/>
<br/>
But you'll need to test it out and you're not sure if you can throw a band on while already wearing a mask. It's been close to an hour at this point with no sign of anyone coming so you close up shop once more, this time for the night, and in the back office you divest yourself of Priscilla's clothes. But there's no time to worry because you sit back and place the mind band to your head. When you awake you pick it up. Nothing about it it looks different bar one thing.<br/>
<br/>
Your name shows up in red instead of the usual blue. You're left to wonder what it does.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Just a hair over nineteen; that's when you'd met him. His figure is corpulent, his manner of speech faux-aristocratic and hammy. Vincent Price if he lived long enough to let himself go, that's what you think of him. But it's a disarming image he provides and one not to be underestimated for he's someone who knows his stuff. You'd read his fortune, a gypsy lifestyle is one of the ways you'd managed to get by and certainly the most preferable, and a week later he'd found you again saying he was surprised and intrigued by the accuracy of it.<br/>
<br/>
You were invited back to his home. Impressively large and with an astounding library that might even put Grandmother's to shame. Here you could come and go, studying the books while acting as the older man's protege. The lecherous old creep. You knew how he looked at you, what he wanted to do to you and what you'd denied him each and every time. You suppose that you'd must have taken his patience past its limit as you were eventually kicked out, claiming that you weren't progressing at all and that he was a fool to have put any faith in you.<br/>
<br/>
Back to a romanticized vagrancy but armed with more knowledge you'd gone and you were happier. But you must put down roots eventually and so you'd saved up enough to get an office space in a small strip mall. Divination and other mystical services, a bit of minor charlatanism to keep the rubes happy. You'd managed to carve out a nice niche and do alright for yourself. Enough that you could start amassing your own collection. Nothing like what he had to be sure but all the same you were learning.<br/>
<br/>
You had to laugh as well. Not progressing? You were becoming more accurate in your predictions, your own knowledge was increasing with each book. Petty as it was you'd wanted to shove it all in has face. But you didn't. Instead... you woke up.<br/>
<br/>
A dream; memories belonging to Priscilla experienced in the same vivid clarity as when you'd first woken up as her. Being Priscilla so far has proven to, in a sense, be overwhelming. Her mind is vast and active, thoughts, memories and knowledge zipping this way and that moreso than when you'd been in other masks. Desires too. Lots of them. Desire for knowledge, desire for power, to impress Grandmother, to right wrongs and return home; for petty revenge.<br/>
<br/>
For desires only occasionally fulfilled with another person but more often alone. You yourself have desires unfulfilled as well. Priscilla Martin is certainly an attractive woman, distant relation or not that you can't deny. Laying under the covers, you slip one hand underneath the gown and move up; another moving down into the panties. For a moment you remembered what Caleb had said on Sunday morning. You decide to follow that advice and soon both you and Priscilla are fulfilling some of those long overdue desires.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"This is certainly a thing isn't it?" Seyha says as she leans against the counter of Priscilla's shop. She can't help but roll a sleeve up of her shirt and flex, the tone and curvature of her bicep is very apparent. "So tiny but more like compact. It's a nice body but it's <i>really</i> fucking weird."<br/>
<br/>
"I can take you out if you want," you say.<br/>
<br/>
"No way, I just said it's nice in here!" she protests before gesturing to Ursula who can't help but gape in astonishment. "Besides, me and her can keep in touch. Maybe I could get in touch with Caleb too. Is he still in Gillian's mask?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only shrug. "Does she know Gillian?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Probably not. This girl's fairly straight-laced and an athlete besides. I can't imagine their paths have crossed."<br/>
<br/>
"Alright, well, I'm not really sure what the exact use would be of having you inside Seyha would be," you state, "but I guess there's no harm in leaving you there either."<br/>
<br/>
"We can talk about ideas on our own if the opportunity comes up, work things out, pass it along to you," she says as she pushes herself off the counter. "Anyway, I have to get back. Not that the restaurant's busy but pa om and mak om might get a little pissy if I dawdle too long without permission."<br/>
<br/>
The both of you watch Seyha exit and Ursula can only shake her head in disbelief. Testing the band had been easy... ish. You'd offered to let Ursula test run it when she got here but she'd refused and it's a good thing. You'd decided to find another test subject and when Seyha came by to drop off the food you'd ordered from the Thai restaurant you'd taken the opportunity to use her as your guinea pig instead.<br/>
<br/>
What you learned (besides the fact that Seyha isn't Thai but that the owners are close friends of her parents) is that this definitely was not a normal mind band. It was more like transferring your consciousness, or a copy of it, into the girl. It was like when you put on a mask. You were able to access everything the same way except it wasn't the same at all. For one, Seyha wouldn't listen to you. Not like a golem would. You told her to jump and she just glowered (intimidating despite her stature).<br/>
<br/>
Instead she described it as if Will Prescott had been swapped wholesale into the girl's body. But why was that? What was so different about that band to cause this... soul swapping, in comparison to the regular band? Or a mask? None of the three of you had an answer and you were still contemplating it as Seyha left.<br/>
<br/>
But one person might have an answer.<br/>
<br/>
The man that Priscilla had briefly known all those years ago: Aubrey Blackwell, a professor of archeology at Keyserling with a vast interest in all things occult, arcane and mystical. If anyone would have a better understanding of what's going on it would be him... probably. But Blackwell could prove to be a dangerous man if you don't play your cards right. Do you leverage your cousin's past relationship (and perhaps other assets) to your advantage? Hit him with one of these new bands? Or just take the old fashioned approach with a mask and some golem goop?<br/>
<br/>
Because no matter what you're going to pay a visit to Professor Blackwell. The question is, what kind of gift will you be giving him when you arrive?</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113211143131112
author_id: rugal
title: The Not-Quite Clone
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"That was amazing," Ursula says breathlessly after Seyha (or the person playing her part) leaves. "That the book can make something like <i>that</i> is... it's beyond incredible and a little terrifying. If I'd put that on instead..."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'm glad you didn't," you admit. "I guess if that was my consciousness in there it'd still be able to be you but it wouldn't be the same. I like you as you are."<br/>
<br/>
"I like me as I am as well," she replies and takes a seat at the table.<br/>
<br/>
"You have no qualms about what we did to that girl?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"I can't say. I'm conflicted I guess," she answers as she looks down at the table. "The book won't let us advance until the spell's completed, and it's getting vaguer so we won't know what we've done until we test it."<br/>
<br/>
"Like animal testing but with magic," you state.<br/>
<br/>
"When you put it that way it sounds so heartless," she says and you note how her face twists up at that.<br/>
<br/>
"Seeing what the book offers is amazing," she continues, "and I think I'm in too deep now. I try not to read my own future too deeply, otherwise life will become boringly fatalistic. But each day I like to get a general sense of where I'm going and more and more my future seems entangled with the book... and with you."<br/>
<br/>
With that she puts her elbows on the table and props her head up. "So we <i>have</i> to do it but I worry about going to far too and hypocritically I don't want what happened to Seyha to happen to me," she says. "That sounds stupid right? Like I'm just passing off any responsibility I'll bear for this onto predestination."<br/>
<br/>
"Not at all," you tell her as you take a seat across from her. "I want to bring my dad back of course but I think deep down I'm also continuing out of curiosity myself."<br/>
<br/>
Though Ursula's not been staring at anything, she's now looking right at you and her face is as hardened as you've seen from her so far. "We need to be cautious Will," she finally says. "The path we're going down is going to be like a dark forest. We'll have to be very careful to make sure we don't lose our way."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought you needed something like those tarot cards to properly divine things."<br/>
<br/>
"It helps to guide me but I don't need it's not required," she answers. "Besides, I don't need divination to see that things could very easily spiral out of control and get messy for us. It's a general warning. There's still a lot that we don't know about all of this so it could easily consume is in the worst ways."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand," you nod. "That's why I'm going to enlist the help of someone who does. But it's going to require one of those new bands and your help to do it."<br/>
<br/>
That certainly piques her curiosity.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Ms. Martin, it has been some time has it not?" Professor Blackwell greets you as he stands in the doorway of his home, an impressive and quite old place just off of Farm Road. "And this is the protege you mentioned?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
"My name is Ursula Jensen, sir," she says as respectfully as she can muster.<br/>
<br/>
"A lovely name for a lovely young woman, I must say. But where are my manners, do come in," he replies as he steps aside and ushers you into the large foyer shutting the door behind you. "You yourself look as radiant as I remember, Ms. Martin. I remember--"<br/>
<br/>
But he doesn't get a chance to continue because almost as soon as the door was closed you'd spun around and with the soul band (as the both of you had decided to call it) in hand quick as a cat you'd slapped it on his head. Neither of you made any effort to catch Blackwell as it would have been wasted. Instead you merely set the bag containing the grimoire down onto a coffee table.<br/>
<br/>
"He doesn't seem as bad as you made him out to be," Ursula observes.<br/>
<br/>
"Trust me, he is. The old pervert likes to do this. Find young women with mystical interests and offer to 'tutor' them if you get what I mean," you scoff. "He did it to Priscilla when she wasn't much older than us. Probably the stuff he'd fed her about her predictions was bullshit because after two or three weeks when it was obvious he was getting nowhere he kicked her to the curb."<br/>
<br/>
"That's awful," Ursula declares.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't know the half of it," Blackwell, in a manner of speech very much unlike himself, grunts out as, with some groans, he pulls himself up off of the floor. "I can't believe my first time being someone else is... this. Even Braydon would have been better. But I suppose that means everything went off without a hitch then," he says as he eyes Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
The girl herself can only cover her mouth in amazement. "I know I just saw it at Priscilla's shop this afternoon but even now," she trails off.<br/>
<br/>
"How do you think <i>I</i> feel being stuck like... like this!" he exclaims as he gestures towards his corpulent and old form. "Is there something we can do about this?"<br/>
<br/>
Is there something? Well of course there is. "Hey, if we want to do this we need to make sure, uh, he's comfortable," you state as you turn to Ursula. "You still have the mask right? We never did anything to it."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Much, much better. I don't know how long I could stand to be like that. It's going to be murder having to cover for him during his classes," states Ursula... well, one of them anyway.<br/>
<br/>
Because for the other Ursula, the real one, it's like looking into a living mirror. You'd had her run back to her place to grab her mask (and on her own initiative she'd brought over a pair of clothes too) so Blackwell could put it on. Or more accurately, so the consciousness of Ursula that you'd copied into one of those soul bands earlier in the afternoon and placed into Professor Blackwell could put it on.<br/>
<br/>
"What are we even going to do?" Ursula asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Research, naturally," answers the other one. "This professor, I'm already picking up on a lot of things from him and he definitely knows a lot; or thinks he does at any rate. But it'll help give us a better understanding once I've got a better grasp on his mind and can start really picking through it. There's so much to his mind though, I can already tell. It's kind of overwhelming."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you think you'll be able to handle it?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"With a little time to adjust I'm sure there won't be any problems," other-Ursula replies. "We should definitely try to digest what this guy knows though, his theories and all of that before going any further into the book. We don't know what else awaits us and we don't want to risk putting ourselves into a bad situation."<br/>
<br/>
"That makes sense," you say before turning to Ursula. "Any objections?"<br/>
<br/>
"N-no," she stammers as she's still wide-eyed at her twin. "Um, if we're going to do this," she says as she points first at her twin then at herself, "what are we going to call her though? Are we just calling her Ursula too?"<br/>
<br/>
The other girl's raised eyebrow says it all. "We both know that'll be far too confusing," she states. "Let's just go with our middle name; call me Ingrid."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, uh, Ingrid," you reply. "So should we get down to business first or what?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's getting close to seven right? I don't want, uh, my sister to get in trouble," Ingrid states. "Does Priscilla have anywhere important to be?"<br/>
<br/>
"I closed up early again. It was a slow day anyway."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, so if you can stay here for a while we can look at the book or try to see what the professor might know," she tells you. "Do you think it'd be good if we gathered everyone together for a meeting tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"It won't be any good for me, you know. I have work on Wednesdays," Ursula states.<br/>
<br/>
"The two of us can check on some stuff tomorrow then," you say as you motion to Ingrid. "Do you have Gillian's number in your phone Ursula?" you ask and when that receives an affirmative response you continue on. "Alright, text her then. If Caleb's still in her mask, great. If not, find out where he is and get in contact. We can all get together on Thursday to hash everything out. The three of us, Caleb wherever he is and Seyha too. We need to make sure we're on the same page before going forward."<br/>
<br/>
You're ready to see off Ursula when she surprises you however with a suggestion of her own. "There's still some things I'd like to check out myself that I won't be able to do at home," she says as she turns to Ingrid. "You don't work like the golems right?"<br/>
<br/>
"There's no ordering me around, no," the twin states.<br/>
<br/>
"Then I'll make a request. Could you go home in my place tonight?" asks Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
Ingrid's expression turns very questioning at that. "To do what? Go to school and work for you?" she asks. "Like I said I'm not a golem."<br/>
<br/>
"Ah, no," Ursula responds a little nervously. "You can come by in the morning and we'll switch out. But there are things that I'd really like to, you know, study while I have the chance since between school and work I won't be able to do it tomorrow."<br/>
<br/>
Ingrid's expression turns from questioning to curious but knowing and she seems to relent. "Okay, just for tonight and I'll make sure to come by early," she says. "One thing though, and I've already gotten this from his mind," she adds as she points to a room at the top of the stairs. "Be in there before midnight, both of you. Close the door and don't leave until dawn. This guy's got some kind of magical security system that you do <i>not</i> want any part of."<br/>
<br/>
You and Ursula both nod as she hands her purse off to her twin. You all give your goodbyes to one another (Ingrid reiterating the warning) and the pair of you watch as Ingrid leaves; Ursula lets out a sigh of relief. "It's going to take me a little bit to get used to that I think," she says as she turns to look at you with a smile. "Shall we?"<br/>
<br/>
You grab the book and follow her lead up to the bedroom that Ingrid had pointed out, shutting the door behind you.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132111431311121
author_id: rugal
title: Her First Time
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"So what is it that you wanted to study so badly?" you ask as you survey the room. It's nice certainly nice and another indicator -- as if the house itself wasn't -- that this Blackwell guy is loaded.<br/>
<br/>
"Just some stuff," Ursula says as she walks past you to sit on the bed. "The masks and Priscilla and just... things in general, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?"<br/>
<br/>
"Priscilla's my mentor and yet there's still so much about her I don't know; so much that she keeps to herself," she replies. "Like her and this professor. I want you to clue me in, at least on what you want to share. She <i>is</i> your cousin after all."<br/>
<br/>
"And I've told you that you know her better than I do, or did I guess," you state as you decide to join her though you take the opportunity to lay down and can't help but think of how soft and comfortable the bed is. "But sure, what do you want to know?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why <i>is</i> she so coy about herself?" asks Ursula.<br/>
<br/>
You think about that for a moment. "I guess because of where she comes from," you finally say. "Cuthbert," you quickly add.<br/>
<br/>
"That'll do it I guess," she replies.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not that. It's..." You trail off at that, trying to think of the right way to word things. "Her grandmother runs the town and from what I can tell she's a nasty piece of work, the whole place is. But Priscilla did something and got exiled. She's really better off out here but she wants back. She still sees Cuthbert as her home and the knowledge..."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of knowledge?"<br/>
<br/>
"Magical," you answer. "The old hag has a lot of books and Priscilla wanted, still wants, to devour them and learn everything she can. She's intellectually hungry but I think she also feels that it could put her in a good position to succeed her grandmother. I don't know, it's all complicated and even with her head, everything about Cuthbert is still dizzying to think about."<br/>
<br/>
There's nothing for a moment before you suddenly feel the bed shift. Ursula is staring down at you and her hands are touching the sides of your face. You feel your heart begin to race, wondering just what she's going to do. Is she going to...? Is she a...? Nervously you anticipate what's going to happen... and then you're jolted as she yanks your head forward.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeow! What the hell was that for?!" you exclaim as you pull back out of her grip and rub your face.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry, um, how do you get it off?" she asks. "I... I want to put it on," she adds as you watch her turn away nervously. You prop yourself up. "If I want to understand her and maybe understand myself and what I can do it might be better for me to get inside of her head."<br/>
<br/>
"Where would that put me?" you ask. "I can't really go back to myself right now and the mask of you is in play right now."<br/>
<br/>
"Not full time like what you're doing," she insists. "Just for a little bit tonight. I just want to explore around myself and if we're going through the book then I'll probably have to work with these masks eventually."<br/>
<br/>
It's not unreasonable of course and you've already wanted to get her under a mask as well, even contemplating putting her under Priscilla's, so you tell her the words that she'll need to say. You place her hands on either side of your face once more, tell her to start chanting and then pull. As she does the world goes dark.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You wake up to the sound of Ursula snickering and it only takes you approximately half a second to realize why. You're back to yourself but you're still dressed in Priscilla's clothes which is undoubtedly quite a site. You don't laugh though and instead push yourself up into a sitting position and note that Ursula's now holding the mask. "So, are you ready?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
To your surprise Ursula shakes her head. "No, of course not. To tell the truth I'm a little scared," she admits as she looks down at the mask in her hands. "Almost everything she is is contained in this thing. I saw you as Braydon and her and when you were on... if I couldn't see the way that I can I could never have known. The idea that I could lose myself in another identity, to another's mind, is kind of frightening."<br/>
<br/>
"I understand but you'll be fine, I promise," you reassure her.<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to stay here with me right?" she asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Well not like I can go anywhere. You know what Ingrid said."<br/>
<br/>
"Not until midnight though and we're sill a few hours before then," comes the reply.<br/>
<br/>
"Look, I'm not going anywhere I promise," you say as you move forward to sit next to her. "Besides, I want to be here," you say as without thinking you place an arm around her waist, "with you." You feel her tense up and at that point you realize what you're doing and very quickly you pull your arm away and move over a bit, widening the distance. "Helping you!" you exclaim, "I want to be here helping you! Get used to this! Um, you know..."<br/>
<br/>
"Will," Ursula says quietly. "Could you... could you turn away? Priscilla's bigger than me so I don't want my clothes damaged."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, um, right," you say as you stand up and move to the other side of the room, back turned to her. "I can get out of these clothes too so you can, you know... this guy must have a robe or something in here."<br/>
<br/>
But there's no response beyond the shifting sounds of the bed. And then there's not even that. You give it a few moments and though you take off Priscilla's underwear you keep the kimono so at least you're still wearing <i>something</i>. When you finally turn around Ursula is gone. There, in all of her glory, is Priscilla.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Everything feels so different and weird," Priscilla marvels, "and my voice too. I really am her aren't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you're still you right? Upstairs?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm still," she starts but then stops and cuts herself off. "Yes, I'm still myself mentally. Actually... Will, how long did it take you before you could think like Priscilla and remember what she did?"<br/>
<br/>
"Immediately," you tell her. "Actually when I woke up it was like I was speed reading her life story. It was all there right out of the gate."<br/>
<br/>
You notice her grimace at that. "That's weird then because I don't have any of that. I can't pull anything up for her," she states, "and we know there's nothing wrong because you've been wearing it so what's the deal?"<br/>
<br/>
"Caleb said he was having issues when he first put on Gillian's mask," you explain, "so maybe it works differently for different people? Maybe more people are, I don't know, compatible?" She can only grunt in dissatisfaction at that so you lean in and grab the sides of her face.<br/>
<br/>
"What are you doing?" she asks nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, you wanted to get inside of her head but if you're not," you tell her. "You also seemed really uncomfortable with the idea of putting on the mask."<br/>
<br/>
"It's fine, Will. It just might take a little bit but I want to see what I can find inside of her head," she says. You notice though that the words come out strained and that her breathing is labored. You notice that her face has turned bright red.<br/>
<br/>
"Ursula?" you ask. "Are you sure you're okay?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine!" she insists but the look on her face betrays her. "Will," she says quietly, "when you said that wanted to be here with me..."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry," you apologize, "that came out weird. I meant..."<br/>
<br/>
"It felt nice," she admits, "to hear that from someone; from you. I've wanted to hear something like that from someone. From a certain person but I know it wasn't going to happen. But you..."<br/>
<br/>
"Ursula..."<br/>
<br/>
"I was so skeptical about you but after that reading..." She closes her eyes but you can see a look of contentment on her face. "Will, I want to... with you... you know..."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes damn near bulge out of your head like some old cartoon character. "Y-you want to," you stammer out in shock, "because of what you saw right? Our fates?"<br/>
<br/>
"They're intertwined with one another Will and they have been since you first showed me that book," she tells you. "But more than that, being with you and doing all of this has been so refreshing and it's been so affirming. Even with the people who do believe me there's always that feeling from them that they don't totally believe but delude themselves so I can give them peace of mind."<br/>
<br/>
"That's a good quality though, you're still helping people," you point out.<br/>
<br/>
"I know but knowing that there really is magic, that everything is real and I'm not just spouting nonsense and deluding myself as well and having those delusions indulged by others," she trails off and opens her eyes. "But you believe in me. I want to repay you."<br/>
<br/>
She wraps her arms around the back of your neck. Before you know it your lips are on hers, your arms are around her and your tongues are probing each others' mouths. It feels wonderful and amazing and yet...<br/>
<br/>
Priscilla -- Ursula -- reaches under the kimono that you're still wearing and to your shock (but a pleasant shock) begins to stroke your cock with soft, delicate fingers. You even begin to forget that physically this is still your blood relative, distant as she might be, because it's still Ursula under the mask.<br/>
<br/>
And you like Ursula. You like her a lot. You like a her to the point where whatever might otherwise stop you is losing out but that thought is still there as is the worry that you might be moving too fast. In the same breath though you realize that because you like Ursula you might want a moment like this to be special, to be real. The both of you as you are, no masks involved.<br/>
<br/>
"Will, I want this and so do you," she says breathily into your ear. "You validate me so, Will, so please; allow me to offer you validation in return."</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111322
author_id: seuzz
title: My Cousin the Witch
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The electronic bell dings a second time as you open the door and let it close. Still no one comes in answer to it. The beaded curtains that separate the back rooms from the front sway slightly in the breeze you've created, but they don't even rattle.<br/>
<br/>
Maybe the shop owner thinks the second bell means the customer turned around and left.<br/>
<br/>
So you open the door and let it fall closed a third time. The tone sounds again: flat and bodiless with none of the character of a real, old-fashioned bell, and none of the extravagance of an up-to-date electronic tone either. It is as dull and dated as the tired old strip center that houses the shop, and is as dingy, in its way, as the crimson drapes on the walls, and the dusty carpet, and the round, walnut table that's scored all over with tiny nicks and scratches.<br/>
<br/>
They say the third time is a charm, and maybe it is in this case, for the beaded curtain abruptly parts and a small woman in a black, fur-trimmed kimono enters. Her hair is dyed as dark as her robe, and it is cut in a short bob—shaped to fit her head almost like a helmet—that frames a well-powdered face with wide-set eyes. "How may I and the spirits be of service?" she asks in a husky, Hungarian accented voice.<br/>
<br/>
Your own eyebrows go up slightly, perhaps in unconscious imitation of her own arched and well-plucked brows. You hold her eye for just a moment before greeting her with a grunted, "Hello, Prissy."<br/>
<br/>
Her mouth falls open a little at the hated nickname. But it still takes her several seconds to recognize you. "Harris!" she cries out, and the accent vanishes. "What are you—?" She gasps. "How's Martha?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, she's fine. What, you think that's the only reason I'd come see you? If something happened to her?"<br/>
<br/>
Priscilla Martin's mouth settles into a straight, grim line. "It's the only reason I'd come see <i>you.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Eesh.</i> This is going to be even more awkward than you'd feared.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, she's fine," you tell her. "Healthy and happy, and so are the boys." <i>I'm the one with troubles. My troubles are so bad I'm not even here.</i> "I've got some consulting work for you is all. If you're interested. How much do you charge per hour?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't so much as bat a lash. "The spirits don't charge by the hour, only by the session."<br/>
<br/>
"So how much is a session, and how long does one last?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seventy-five dollars, and it lasts until the client is happy and satisfied."<br/>
<br/>
You can't fight down the smirk. "This is going to cost me thousands."<br/>
<br/>
She bridles. "Look, just tell me what you want, Harris, and I'll tell you if I'll even charge for it."<br/>
<br/>
What you want is to be out of here. Or, your dad does. <i>I like Priscilla just fine,</i> he would protest if anyone pressed him. <i>She's funny and charming and I bet she's a hoot to be with when she's got a couple of daiquiris in her. It's her </i>business<i> I can't stand. Fortune telling, palm reading, tarot reading ... She's even got a goddamn crystal ball! </i>A crystal ball!<i> And yes, charming she is, but that's what con artists are, they're charming, and that's what she is, a con artist, preying on gullible people. How the hell is it even supposed to work, this stuff? Why does she </i>think<i> it works? Because five thousand years ago some swami wrote a book on papyrus with a quill dipped in his own dung? What's worse is she believes it herself! Jesus! A liar who lies to herself is even worse than a liar who milks the marks while laughing at them behind their backs, because at least the other kind might get a conscience about it one day!</i><br/>
<br/>
And this is why your mother's mother's sister's daughter is a stranger to you—such a stranger that you never knew she existed until after you'd turned yourself into your dad.<br/>
<br/>
Because he can start with a compliment, but within ten seconds it will morph into a screedy, arm-waving lecture.<br/>
<br/>
"Harris?" Priscilla Martin says, and you realize you've been staring at her.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh. Well, you came to her because <i>maybe</i> she will know something about this stuff. And even though your dad is grumbling in a very loud, very skeptical voice inside your skull, you drop into a chair—one of those cheap, thinly cushioned chairs they set out in hotel conference rooms; probably she found a few used ones on eBay—and lay the grimoire on the table.<br/>
<br/>
"It's this book, Priscilla," you tell her. You open it to one of the spells. "Particularly, what can you tell me about these things?" You point to the sigil.<br/>
<br/>
She sits down too, with her elbows on the table, and bends over the book, almost putting her nose to it before straightening up and taking out a pair of eyeglasses. Your lips twitch. They are owlish, thick-framed things, like Winston Churchill used to sport.<br/>
<br/>
In fact, once she's got them on her nose, you see they're pince-nez. You wonder if she uses them as an affectation, or simply because they were cheapest kind of glasses that could take her prescription. As you let your eye idly wander the dingy room, you can't help thinking that there can't be a lot of money in this business.<br/>
<br/>
"Where'd you find this book?" she asks. "It doesn't look like your kind of thing."<br/>
<br/>
"Will found it." That seems a safe enough confession. "A used bookstore."<br/>
<br/>
"How is Will?"<br/>
<br/>
"I told you, he and Robert are fine."<br/>
<br/>
"What is he now? Eleven? Twelve?"<br/>
<br/>
"Seventeen. Where does the time go?" you dryly add as her head shoots up.<br/>
<br/>
"I could keep track of these things," she murmurs as she looks back down at the grimoire, "if I got to see you and Martha more."<br/>
<br/>
"You've got too much common courtesy. You could drop in on Martha any weekday between eight-thirty and five-thirty."<br/>
<br/>
"Those are my business hours. Also, Saturdays, from ten to two. Oh, but you knew <i>that</i> much at least."<br/>
<br/>
You sigh and almost invite her out for Sunday lunch. But that would be so completely out of character for your dad that it might actually provoke suspicion.<br/>
<br/>
"So what do you want to know about these things?" Priscilla asks. She flips a page to study another sigil. "I notice you're not asking me about the Latin."<br/>
<br/>
"I looked at the Latin already and it's hogwash. At best, it's only good for blowing things up."<br/>
<br/>
"No wonder you're interested in it," she says with sweet poison. "You didn't tell me this was a consultation of one professional to another."<br/>
<br/>
You grimace. You forgot that Priscilla disapproves of your dad's job—aeronautical engineering with military applications—as much as he disapproves of hers. "I'm just curious about the sigils."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, it's a collection of authentic spells, I can tell you that much."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that all you can tell me about the sigils?" You notice her hesitation, and add, "What you can really tell me? Not the hoodoo you make up to impress the marks."<br/>
<br/>
She claps the book shut and shoves it toward you. "Take it to an antique dealer, then."<br/>
<br/>
You rub the side of your face and feel a rueful smile forming. <br/>
<br/>
"I just meant that I want an expert's opinion," you tell her. "What kind of stuff are these ... patterns? This writing." You open the grimoire back up and point to a sigil. "You know about them, it sounds like. What are the books <i>you</i> read that told you about them, and where can I find them? I'm not looking to be entertained, Priscilla. We both know a good patter is part of the sales technique, and I use a good patter myself when I have to. But expert to expert. Yes, <i>professional to professional.</i>" You tap the sigil. "What is this? Because I don't believe for an instant that it's just a pretty picture. There's too much <i>system</i> in them. I've studied them, and they share <i>too many similarities</i> just to be doodles."<br/>
<br/>
Priscilla sucks in her cheeks and pulls the book back toward her. "I can't tell you what they <i>say,</i>" she tells you after a long minute of study. "It's academical magic, far above my level of expertise. If my business was making paper airplanes—" She gestures at the room. "These would be like you and your jet engines."<br/>
<br/>
"So how do you know about it? You must have read about it <i>somewhere,</i> is all I mean," you add when she gives you a sour look.<br/>
<br/>
She gets up and disappears through the beaded curtain. She's gone for several minutes, but when she comes back she hands you a slip of paper.<br/>
<br/>
"The Keyserling library should have a copy of these books," she tells you. "Use inter-library loan if they don't."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Now I </i>am<i> impressed,</i> you almost say, but catch yourself in time. "Thanks. What do I owe you?"<br/>
<br/>
She glances at the clock. "Spare a twenty? I made a deposit yesterday, and the Thai place next door only takes cash."<br/>
<br/>
As you dig out your wallet, she returns to the book, flipping back toward the front cover.<br/>
<br/>
And when you hold out the bill, she doesn't take it. You cock your head.<br/>
<br/>
She is frozen in fascination, her hands pressed to the table on either side of the book.<br/>
<br/>
It's those faces on the title page. She's found them. And she's watching them <i>change.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Priscilla said nothing after giving you the book back, but she was very pale, and you have the strong impression that knows, or suspects, something she didn't tell you.<br/>
<br/>
A mind band could pry it out of her.</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113221
author_id: seuzz
title: Some Occult Biographies
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Caleb had some masks and mind bands prepared, but you didn't bring any with you because you didn't think you'd need them. You're still not sure you need them, but it seems best to play it safe. Once you're outside the shop, you take out your phone and text your son. <i>Where are you?</i><br/>
<br/>
It's almost three hours before he replies, during which your anger and impatience blossom into something approaching rage before dying back into a cold determination to do as the Lord God did unto Egypt: to smite the first-born of the household unto death. It was okay to hang back from answering a parental summons when it was <i>you</i> doing the hanging back. But it's Caleb playing you now, and he should know that if you want him then he'd better make himself available.<br/>
<br/>
You return home, where Martha can only tell you that both the boys have bolted the house for the day. You retire to the study, where every thirty minute or so you lob another threatening text in the direction of the guy who's playing yourself. In the meantime, you study up on the titles that Priscilla gave you. A search of the Keyserling system shows that they only have two of the books on her list, and both are checked out. Old-fashioned gypsy fortuneteller that she is, though, she didn't think to suggest a general search of the internet, and you find that all three books are available online, either as HTML pages or PDFs. As you print them off, you study up on the authors and their histories.<br/>
<br/>
The career of Jack Twilford, as related by Wikipedia, gives you a bad turn. An acolyte of Aleister Crowley (whom even your dad has heard of), he was a mathematician who worked in the Enigma program during the Second World War and was an early designer of computer systems. He was dropped by the government as a security risk after it was discovered that he was a member of a small religious cult (a splinter group off Crowley's Ordo Templi Orientis) and put under heavy surveillance. But the police presence about him didn't prevent him from being murdered and dismembered in a grisly manner that is still, in the occult community, the subject of conspiracy theories and dark rumors of official involvement. But based on Wikipedia's description of it, Twilford's <i>The Logical Basis of Magico-Metaphysics</i> may be the best of the books that Priscilla suggested to you.<br/>
<br/>
Julian Karswell, meanwhile, has a much more sinister reputation. A rival of Crowley, he and the other were rumored to have employed hexes on multiple occasions in a bid to assassinate each other; there is a grisly story about a butcher who accidentally intercepted one of Karswell's packages intended for Crowley, and who vanished entirely except for a shoe containing a sock and a human foot. It is an article of faith that Crowley was the victor in the duel, for Karswell died prematurely while on a visit to France, where he was brained by a chunk of masonry that fell off a church. His book, <i>On the Truth of Alchemy,</i> has a very bad reputation, not so much on account of its scholarship as on account of its style—Karswell's feud with Crowley is said to have stemmed from a slashing review that the latter gave of it, in which he suggested that Karswell's book was actually written in an unknown language that only accidentally resembled English. You make a mental to put that one at the bottom of your list.<br/>
<br/>
The last, to your relief, appears to have been an actual scholar: G. R. J. Kirke-Ketterley, of the University of Glasgow. You guess he had only an academic interest in magic, for he gets none of the online love that the more lurid characters get, and appears only in their bibliographies and in a list of Chairs at Glasgow. His 1884 monograph, "Symbolical Magic in the Renaissance," is described as an historical overview rather than as a work of theory, but you decide it's the best place to start.<br/>
<br/>
You print out all the documents and put them in a binder; you camouflage the contents further by larding them over with printouts of work emails.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You've completed the first chapter of the Kirke-Ketterley book and are deep into the second when there's a tentative knock on the door. "Come in," you call. The door slides open with a creak, and a rabbity face peers in. "I said, 'Come in'," you growl in a deeper tone.<br/>
<br/>
Will Prescott slips in through the crack and closes the door behind him. "Are you pissed at me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was pissed at you. Now I'm just going to kill you. Do you know what time it is?"<br/>
<br/>
"Two-fifteen. I got back as soon as I could."<br/>
<br/>
"From where?"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't get all fucking sharp with me, man," he snaps. "You didn't say anything about needing me before I left."<br/>
<br/>
"Why wasn't your phone on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I was at the movies! They make you turn it off!"<br/>
<br/>
"You couldn't set it to vibrate?"<br/>
<br/>
His expression curls up. "I thought I did. It's this crappy phone, if you got me a better one— You can get one for yourself now, Will!" he cries as you raise a hand. "You can pay for it, and then after everything's back to normal—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Alright!" you thunder. "The point is, I'd like you stay available in case I need you. Which I did, earlier."<br/>
<br/>
"What's up?" His expression changes in a flash to one of concern.<br/>
<br/>
"I found someone I want to use a mask on, and I wanted your help with it. You know, just in case." You shift in your chair, aware that you're about to undercut all the reasons you had for being mad at him. "I guess I could've done it myself, but I think it would be better if we do it together."<br/>
<br/>
"So let's go do it now!" He whips his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm always up for—"<br/>
<br/>
"We can't, she's closed her shop already."<br/>
<br/>
"Shop? <i>She?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You gesture him to sit down.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a cousin of mine. Cousin of my mother's. What?" you ask, for a sly grin is spreading across his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Umeko?" he says, and his eyes gleam with cruel laughter.<br/>
<br/>
You lean across the desk and jab a finger at him. "You shut up about Umeko. And she's you cousin, so don't get any ideas about—"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not <i>related</i> to you, Will," he chortles. "And she's not related to me, either!" He drums his chest. "I can do whatever I want with her, and—"<br/>
<br/>
You lunge halfway across the desk. "You don't do <i>anything</i> with her! So help me, W—! Caleb! If you so much as <i>smile</i> at her, I'll—!"<br/>
<br/>
There's a knock at the door, and it opens before you can say anything. Martha looks in with a very neutral expression. "Can I do anything for you? Will, did you get some lunch earlier?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes, thanks."<br/>
<br/>
"Right, thanks," you say. "We're talking about his homework is all. We'll keep it down."<br/>
<br/>
Martha gives you a very direct look before she shuts the door. "Wipe that smirk off your face," you tell Caleb. He tries to comply—but not very valiantly, as he can't keep a mirthful gleam from his eye. "But I was talking about another cousin," you continue. "Priscilla Martin."<br/>
<br/>
"Never heard of her."<br/>
<br/>
"I never heard of her either," you admit, "until—"<br/>
<br/>
"Obviously you never heard of her, or else <i>I'd've</i> heard of her, considering—"<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up. She's your— my mother's cousin, and she comes from the branch of the family that lives up in Cuthbert." You settle back to see what reaction <i>that</i> draws from your replacement.<br/>
<br/>
His gaze goes distant, and that gleam dies away. His expression tightens. "Ick," he says, and looks at you. "She's one of <i>those?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"She's normal looking, at least. She moved down here about twenty years ago, there was some trouble back in Cuthbert, and she lived with my mom and dad for a couple of months—this was before I was born—then got a place of her own. She was just a teenager." Your heart does a small somersault. "I think she was younger then than we are now."<br/>
<br/>
You feel a moment of pathos as you imagine being driven from your home and moving to a new town and having to move in with cousins you barely know. The vulnerability, the fear, the strangeness ... <br/>
<br/>
The moment is blown away, like dandelion tufts in a tornado, by a chortle from Will. "Everyone in this house is younger than you are, <i>Dad.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"Anyway," you say through gritted teeth, "she knows something about the occult. She's got a fortune-teller shop over by Walmart. And that—" You ignore the huge grin spreading across Will's face. "That is why we exchange Christmas cards but never see each other."<br/>
<br/>
"What is she, like an old gypsy woman?" he laughs.<br/>
<br/>
"She's in her early thirties. Cute, too. But she knows something about this stuff and she gave me some leads." You push the binder at him. "Those are the books she recommended to me."<br/>
<br/>
"So why do we want to make a mask of her?" He flips through the binder. "Is it because she's cute?"<br/>
<br/>
"She knows something she's not telling me. I had to show her the book in order to get her to talk." Will looks up sharply at that. "There wasn't any other way. But she saw those weird-ass faces at the front, and the way she reacted, I could tell she knew it was something special. But she wouldn't tell me any more."<br/>
<br/>
"So we just need to get one of those metal doohickies on her, it sounds like." That raffish grin pops back onto his face. "Unless, you know, she's <i>really</i> cute."<br/>
<br/>
It's not because she's cute that you're thinking about making a mask of her. It's because you wonder if an impersonation might be in order. Your dad hasn't got time to deal with this stuff, and you're not going to outsource it to Caleb. Priscilla's shop can't be so busy that you wouldn't have time to camp there under her face and make a really thorough study of what she knows.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132212
author_id: seuzz
title: Back to School
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Priscilla's shop won't open again until Monday, so although you send Caleb out to retrieve all the material you'll need for an impersonation you make no further moves in that direction.<br/>
<br/>
You finish reading the Kirke-Ketterley book, which isn't very long and would be even shorter if it weren't written in that ornate, late-Victorian prose where every sentence starts with a construction like <i>It is to be hoped that the reader will understand without the author explicitly conveying that ...</i> and scrolls on for a hundred words or more with dependent and subordinate clauses trailing off like whiskers off a catfish. You're done with it by evening, though, and pass it along to your groaning son with orders that he read it too.<br/>
<br/>
For all its pompous erudition, the Kirke-Ketterley book was at least historically informative. It described the use of symbols in spells by tracing their originals back to ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia and showing how their recovery (via the Arabs) in the Renaissance influenced the more "academic" magic of John Dee and Athanasius Kircher. It also explained that the symbols that they studied, modified, experimented with, and employed as specific commands could be joined into larger complexes of commands so as to bring about certain conditions. It occurs to you, with your father's logic-centered brain, that this sounds an enormous amount like computer code, and when you glance back at one of the sigils in the book you imagine it to be computer circuitry that has been carved into the very shape of the software it is running.<br/>
<br/>
Unfortunately, many of the symbols that Kirke-Ketterley discussed employed a font that is not on your computer, so you are not able to compare them to the sigils in the book.<br/>
<br/>
Sunday was a distraction all around, as you had church to attend—and you could barely restrain yourself from smacking Will when he tumbled downstairs in a white shirt nd good pants but with his hair sticking out every way in unkempt tufts. When he sopped his head under running water to brush it out, he emerged looking like he was wearing a family of drowned minks on his head.<br/>
<br/>
Lunch was a drawn-out agony, as you took it at your uncle (now your brother) Scott's house, with his wife Mary and your adopted cousin (now niece) Umeko. You had to keep fixing Will with a hard glare all during the meal as he would insist on flirting with her. Back at the house you were so wrung out that you took a nap, not waking until four. You were too groggy after that to get any further work done.<br/>
<br/>
And because your dad would not be able to see Priscilla on Monday before she closed her shop, you sent Caleb home to change places with his golem, then took golem-Will upstairs to change back into yourself.<br/>
<br/>
After that, you hid in your room so you wouldn't have to look at your father, who to your imagination at least had a look of pale-faced horror about him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Monday is a gloomy and tempestuous sort of day, the kind that reminds you that October has now truly got the world by the neck and is pressing relentless claws into the soft throat of the dying year. By early afternoon, thunderstorms are riding the cold winds, and rain is lashing the walls and grounds of the school.<br/>
<br/>
You get directly reacquainted with Keith during second period, somewhat to your dismay. "So I told Mike and Carlos about that movie we saw," he tells you, referring to the film that Caleb saw with him Saturday afternoon while disguised as you. "They said it sucked."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought it was awesome," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, I trust Mike and Carlos more'n you anyway," Keith says with smug cheerfulness.<br/>
<br/>
"Mike and Carlos" would be Michael Hollister and Carlos Montoya, two schoolmates who have a YouTube movie review channel. Keith, it turns out, has a larger social circle than either you or Caleb suspected, and they're another group around which he orbits. <br/>
<br/>
Strange as it sounds to put it this way, but it's true: You have learned a lot about Keith during the week that you haven't seen him, because Caleb has been cultivating his company while giving his own golem the cold shoulder. "It's creepy, talking to yourself when you know it's a robot," he told you in a muttered explanation at his locker before classes, when you jokingly called him on it. He has been out to the "studio" where they do their work: a unit in the climate-controlled building at Top S(h)elf Self-Storage complex. They have even talked to you—that is to say, Caleb—about doing a video with them.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think they made some really good points," Keith is saying now as he leans back in his desk and peers down his nose at you. He holds out his hand as though cradling a glass of fine wine. "The whole <i>gezoondenshtalt</i> of the thing was, like, sub-Kuro— Kuroso—" He stumbles over the word before giving up. "And the aesthetics were pure Bayhem," he ends in a sneer.<br/>
<br/>
"You liked it," you remind him.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "That was just automotor reaction," he sniffs, "like when you laugh when someone tickles you. If someone tickles you while you're watching a movie, and you laugh, that doesn't make it a funny movie. Same thing here." He shrugs again. "The movie tickled you, but it wasn't a good movie."<br/>
<br/>
"Is that what Mike and Carlos told you to say?"<br/>
<br/>
His face falls. "I got my own brain."<br/>
<br/>
"After borrowing one from them, it sounds like."<br/>
<br/>
"Shut up."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I'd love to hear it from them, but I can't hang out with you guys after school today, on account of—"<br/>
<br/>
"I know!" he chortles. "You got <i>detention,</i> bro!" Ropes of spit stretch between his unbrushed teeth as he grins at you.<br/>
<br/>
And that's when you remember, with a groan, that you will be stuck at the school until at least four-forty-five.<br/>
<br/>
Which would give you at most fifteen minutes to get to the Tempting Fates fortuneteller shop before your cousin Priscilla closes it for the day.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Yeah, where are you s'posed to spend it?" Carson Ioeger asks you at lunch. You and Caleb and Keith are taking the meal with him and his friends. <br/>
<br/>
Carson Ioeger and James Lamont are what you and Caleb would be like if you were thirty percent smarter. Both are math/science whizzes, better even than Caleb, and unlike the AP dorks they share classes with, they actually seem to get off on the stuff they're learning. They have lots of practical experience, too, of the sort that you'd like to have fun getting, and their sophomore year they even built a small, working trebuchet. It aggravates you to think that Carson and James are the kind of kids that your dad was probably like, and that he'd really wishes you had turned out to be like.<br/>
<br/>
Anyway, both guys, along with Jenny Ashton and Paul Davis, are stretching their lanky selves out on the quad between the office and the library and jamming sandwiches and chips into their mouths while talking.<br/>
<br/>
"I find the library is most conducive to a profitable detention," Carson continues. He's had several over the years. "If you know semaphore, you can talk to someone on the other side of the room and you'll never get caught."<br/>
<br/>
"I have to take it in the office," you mutter.<br/>
<br/>
"That's a good place too," Carson says. He peers critically at his sandwich, then with a shrug yanks off another hunk with his teeth. "Quiet," he mumbles around the bread, "'n'dhey dhink 'ou can' get upta no ghud, so dhey don' check on 'ou."<br/>
<br/>
"Morons," James snickers.<br/>
<br/>
"I gotta take it with the Molester, too," you add.<br/>
<br/>
Everyone stops eating. Lester "The Molester" Pozniak is the soccer goalie that Caleb got in the fight with. He's a brute, and everyone instantly gets the implications of being trapped in a room with him without adult supervision.<br/>
<br/>
"It was nice knowing you, Prescott," Lamont says. "Will your parents want flowers or a contribution in your name to your favorite charity?"<br/>
<br/>
You ignore the gibe to give Caleb a dirty look. You expect him to look guilty, or abashed, or apologetic, or at least sympathetic. Instead, he studies your face with a thoughtful eye, and slowly chews his own lunch.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So it's with a heavy heart, for lots of reasons, that you exit your last period class. Intimations of discomfiture have run ahead of you: Jamie Rennerhoff, one of the minor bullies who shares Astronomy with you, openly smirks at you all during class, and he trods on your heels as you exit the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Will!" a voice calls, and you look over to see Carson and James, waving you over to the other side of the hall. "Johansson wants you to meet him out in the parking lot," Carson says.<br/>
<br/>
"I got detention. <i>You</i> know."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I know, and I don't give as big of a shit as I was pretending earlier. Anyway, Caleb says he's got your cell phone."<br/>
<br/>
You feel at your pockets in surprise: indeed, it's missing.<br/>
<br/>
But they're not going to let you keep it out in detention, and it might be safer with Caleb anyway.</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111322122
author_id: seuzz
title: A Fortuneteller's Misfortune
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You might be worried about being late to detention, except that you don't have to worry about pissing off your dad if the school calls home. In fact, you're tempted to bolt detention altogether just because you don't think you run much of a risk of getting into worse trouble.<br/>
<br/>
But you resolve to stick it through ... just as soon as you retrieve your phone from Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
He's in his car already, parked near the breezeway that disgorges onto the student parking lot. "Come on, jump in," he yells at you.<br/>
<br/>
You blanch. "I got detention, man, I can't—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Jump! In!" he yells, and guns the motor even as he stretches across to open the passenger-side door for you. "I got you covered!"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Covered?</i> You wonder if he means that ...<br/>
<br/>
Screw it. You'll trust him. You dive into the car, and he peels out even before you get the door shut. But still: "Am I gonna be in trouble for this?" you gasp.<br/>
<br/>
"With your dad?"<br/>
<br/>
"No! With the school!"<br/>
<br/>
He chortles. "I told you I got you covered." He turns to grin at you. "You're already in the office!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck!" Relief vies with anger at being kept in the dark: Caleb put your mask on a golem and sent it in to take detention for you. "Cocksucker!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong?"<br/>
<br/>
"Why didn't you tell me what you were doing!"<br/>
<br/>
"I wasn't sure I could pull it off, I didn't want you mad at me if I couldn't!" Caleb shrugs. "So I just skipped last period and ran out to the clubhouse. Here's your key back." He holds out the key to the padlock. "You should put it on your ring, not in your book bag."<br/>
<br/>
"You took my phone while you were at it, too, you goddamned kleptomaniac!" But you hold up your hand for a high five, which he returns. "What'd you do for clothes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Stopped by your house. Your mom doesn't care if I skip, and I told her you needed a change on account of you got shoved under a shower in the gym locker rooms." He punches the accelerator and leaps out onto Borman Avenue.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you stop to think what would happen if I didn't come out here, if I'd gone to the office instead?"<br/>
<br/>
"You'd'a been boned," he laughs. "The fuck would you have gone to the office for? You really wanted to go to detention?"<br/>
<br/>
You cross your arms and slouch. "I could've!"<br/>
<br/>
"If you were a dope, yeah. Fuck, Will, don't scare me by talking like that."<br/>
<br/>
So you don't tell him how close you came to walking in for detention after "you" were already there, and just ask him where your cell phone is. "With you, in the office, being detained," he says.<br/>
<br/>
You hope nothing happens to either it or the other you while it's trapped there with the Molester.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your cousin's fortune-telling shop is located in a crummy shopping center on Fortieth Street, next to the Walmart. The parking lot ripples with buckling asphalt and pot holes, and under the gray sky—the thunderstorms have abated, at least temporarily, but heavy clouds are still rolling overhead—the strip center has a wasted and abandoned feel.<br/>
<br/>
The shop hasn't even got a marquee, like the tae kwon do place next to it, and the only sign for it is stenciled in curling letters on one of the dark windows. "Tempting Fates." That must be Priscilla's idea of being cute and clever. Still, it's no worse than "Thai Won On," which is the name of the restaurant next to it.<br/>
<br/>
There's a vintage green Chevy Corvette—something from the 70s, by the styling—parked in front of the shop; you hope that it is Priscilla's and not a customer's, though it doesn't look anything like her style.<br/>
<br/>
"Is she gonna recognize you?" Caleb asks as you approach the front door.<br/>
<br/>
"Hope not. When I was here Saturday, she thought I was eleven or twelve."<br/>
<br/>
"I thought your dad was in his forties."<br/>
<br/>
"Skip it." You open the door and that electronic bell goes <i>dhong.</i> Caleb precedes you inside.<br/>
<br/>
The interior of the shop is almost pitch-black, for the lights are off and the windows are tinted against the stormy twilight without. You blink a couple of times, and gradually the contours of the shop clarify. The dark, round table. The two chairs. The beaded curtains hanging in the doorway into the back.<br/>
<br/>
The tall, sneering guy standing by the curtain. "What do you fuckers want?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
It's hard to make him out at first, for he's standing in a shadow in a room that's already dim. But he's taller than you are, and his dark, lanky hair falls over his eyebrows and ears. His face is pale, but he has a strong nose and chin.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb squeaks for you when you can't find your own voice. "Is the, uh, fortuneteller here?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
The curtains rattle and part, and Priscilla steps into the room. Her mouth falls open slightly when she sees you, and for a moment you think she must recognize you. But she only says, "Dhese are gustomers" in an even more guttural Hungarian accent than she used on you Saturday, "zeeking guidance from dhe sbirits." She nudges the guy in the arm. "You may go."<br/>
<br/>
He scowls at her and he scowls at you, and with an insolent swagger brushes past you and Caleb. To your own dismay, you flinch and jump aside. From up close, you see that if he is not your age, he is not much older. His lip curves as he glares at you, exposing the gleam of a wolf-like incisor. The bell rings again as the door opens and closes.<br/>
<br/>
"Gum. Zit," Priscilla says, and gestures at the chairs. With the hem of her kimono flying behind, she crosses the room in great strides to grasp the handle of the door. "I jarge zeventy-vive dhollars for a gonsultation."<br/>
<br/>
"I got a hundred on me," you say. She smiles, and locks the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Dhen be zeated," she says. "You are not my usual dhype of gustomer, I muzt zay, and I muzt gonfess to being gurious as to what sort of—"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb runs out of patience before you do. You have a mask in your backpack, but he's got one in his hand, and as your cousin swishes past again with a soft rustle of silk, he grabs her from behind and slams a mask onto her face. "Will!" he yells as she sinks against him, and you scramble to help him support her. "In there!" he gasps, nodding toward the beaded curtain, and together you lug your cousin, who is surprisingly heavy, into the back.<br/>
<br/>
It really is black in there, but after feeling at the walls you flick a switch, and a sickly orangeish light pops on. It's a business office—very small—with a file cabinet, desk, laptop computer and swivel chair. There are two others doors, one of which is open. Behind it you glimpse the edge of a sink.<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, how did your cousin pick up an accent like that if she was from the mountains?" Caleb asks as you and he shove her into the swivel chair. You have to brace it against the desk to keep it from swinging around and dumping her on the floor.<br/>
<br/>
"It's a fake, dumbass. It goes with the act. How did you get the mask out of my backpack?"<br/>
<br/>
"I didn't, I brought an extra one with me, just in case. So who was that guy who was just here?"<br/>
<br/>
"Beats the fuck outta me. Maybe we can ask her after we get her turned into a golem."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb bends over to study her. "She is kind of cute," he says. He pulls back the hem of her kimono. "Nice legs."<br/>
<br/>
You whap him. "Stop that."<br/>
<br/>
"Why don't you turn yourself into her?" he says. "Or maybe I should. I brought my mask along."<br/>
<br/>
Your eyes pop. "You want to turn yourself into a <i>woman?"</i><br/>
<br/>
"Sure," he says, showing no trace of embarrassment. "That's why I was making up masks. Was gonna get them onto some of the girls at school, put 'em on when I was by myself and feeling horny."<br/>
<br/>
"For what?" You're very conscious that your voice is like a scream.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a pitying look. "For fun. Instead of having to ask a girl if I can play with her boobs or stroke her clit, I could just do it myself. Don't tell me it's not obvious."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Well, it is now—now that he's mentioned it.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Besides," he continues, "instead of playing twenty questions with a golem, I could just spit the answers out to you." He glances over his shoulder at the outer room. "Like who that asshole was and is he coming back?"<br/>
<br/>
Caleb has a point, but you were thinking of playing the role yourself, as you explain to him.<br/>
<br/>
"But your mask is up at the school," he objects.<br/>
<br/>
"And whose fault is that?" you retort. "Besides, you say you've got your mask here. We can pop it onto her while I turn myself into her."<br/>
<br/>
"So there's going to be two of me? Not a good look, man."<br/>
<br/>
"You can hide out here in the back until my golem gets out of detention and can get back here."<br/>
<br/>
You argue about it a little more, then you're interrupted by a banging from the front room. Carefully you peer out through the beaded curtains. There's a silhouette pressing its face against the glass door; you don't have to make out the face to know it's the guy that Priscilla threw out. He bangs on the door again with his fist, then turns around and stalks off.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, whoever that guy is, he's officially bad news," Caleb says. He chews his lip, then looks down at Priscilla. "But I'll still take a chance on her, if it gets me out of school and into the fortunetelling business."</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113221221
author_id: seuzz
title: Priscilla Martin's Past
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You and Caleb argue some more, with him making his case and you making yours, until he relents.<br/>
<br/>
"I can come out and visit you here at least, can't I?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
"It's gonna look funny," you tease, "you visiting a fortune teller. But sure."<br/>
<br/>
He returns you a tight smile. "So maybe I could get me a mask of a girl who likes to have her fortune told."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can retort to that, a blue glow shows on Priscilla Martin's face, and you catch the mask as it falls off her.<br/>
<br/>
"Get your mask on her," you tell Caleb as you rip back the zipper on your bag and pull out the tub of golem paste you'd prepared. "We need to get this changed out before that cocksucker out there decides to bust down the door." Privately, you're a lot more worried about what will happen once you're inside Priscilla's mask and have to deal with him directly.<br/>
<br/>
You're just starting to spread the stuff into the mask when there's a grunt nearby. "What kind of fucked up, kinky shit is this?" Caleb says. You look up alarm.<br/>
<br/>
There are two Caleb Johanssons standing next to you, and you do a double take at them. The one who's dressed as he normally dresses is doubled over in asthmatic laughter. The other is flapping out Priscilla's kimono with an expression of horror and dismay.<br/>
<br/>
You've no time for horseplay, though. "Take him in the bathroom and explain what's going on," you order Caleb. "And get him out of those things!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's he supposed to wear?"<br/>
<br/>
"Christ, I don't care. Does he need to wear anything? You're gonna bring my golem back when he gets out of detention."<br/>
<br/>
"It's cold in here," the other Caleb protests.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a fuck! Here, you can give him my stuff." You unbutton your pants and kick off your shoes. "I'll be putting her things on anyway."<br/>
<br/>
But you stop before you can disrobe fully, for you remember what you're going to be looking like when you awake, and you don't want Caleb getting an eyeful of your new body in all its nubile nudity.<br/>
<br/>
So he takes his twin into the bathroom and pushes the door closed. Their voices are low and murmuring, but you can't make out the words except for the golem's exclamations of "The fuck?" a few times. You just concentrate on the mask.<br/>
<br/>
No time to anticipate what's coming. After blowing the sealant dry, you flop into the chair and push the mask into your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Such a clever child," Grandmother says, and she smiles as she takes the book from you and blows out the candle. "Your blood is rich."<br/>
<br/>
"But is it my blood?" you gasp. "Isn't it the book?"<br/>
<br/>
"Your blood unlocks the book." She lays a withered hand on your rounded belly. "Your child's blood will be richer still."<br/>
<br/>
You return her smile. But when her back is turned you glance greedily at all the other books in her library.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"But where will I go?" you howl as Aunt Sarah hustles you through the windswept night to the waiting car. The suitcase slips from your numb fingers. "I don't got no one down there!"<br/>
<br/>
"You got family," Aunt Sarah hisses as she scoops up the small case and shoves it at you. "Martha's her name. Nate'll give you her address. You might have seen her a'visiting some years ago."<br/>
<br/>
"But I don't know her! Why would she—? Grandmother!" You clutch at Aunt Sarah. "Just let me talk to Grandmother! I'll explain, she'll forgive me! She'll—!"<br/>
<br/>
"She'll do no such thing!" Aunt Sarah pries your fingers away. "I s'pect she knows what Nate and I are doing now, and stays her hand only out of what little pity she still has for you. Show her your face, and she'll put you in The Box until you've skinned yourself from fright."<br/>
<br/>
"But was it so bad what I did?" you cry. "I only did it to learn!"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll learn nothing but what Grandmother sees fit to teach you." Aunt Sarah yanks the car door open and pushes you in; Nate, behind the wheel, looks at you with grim, fearful horror. "Reading her books without leave is worse than stealing the silver, in her eyes."<br/>
<br/>
"But I gave her everything! I even gave her—!" You hiccup.<br/>
<br/>
Aunt Sarah clasps your hand. "And that too may be a reason she stays her hand this much." She kisses your palm. "I will watch and do as I can," she says. "Your Rosalie shall always have my breast, at least, the sweet babe."<br/>
<br/>
Your howl of despair is lost in the roar of the motor as Nate drives you out of Cuthbert and into exile in Saratoga Falls.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Spare a twenty?" you ask Harris. "I made a deposit yesterday, and the Thai place next door only takes cash."<br/>
<br/>
As Martha's husband takes out his wallet, you return to perusing the book. You'd offer to buy it from him—it's real, the most real book you've seen outside Grandmother's library—but even if Harris can't grasp how real it is, he surely can grasp that it is valuable just as an antique. If you offered him anything close to what it is probably worth, it would make him suspicious.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Feh.</i> From the day you fetched up onto Martha's doorstep, Harris has treated you like a mountain-trash con-woman.<br/>
<br/>
You turn a page and your eye falls onto the title page. There are faces across the bottom of it—old-fashioned line drawings as you might see on the leaves of a medieval Bible. Oddly, you have a hard time focusing on them. It's like the faces duck away from your gaze.<br/>
<br/>
You catch a sharp breath. One of them changed.<br/>
<br/>
Oh, the lines didn't move. But as with an optical illusion, when it snaps from being (say) a duck to being a rabbit, this face changes from that of an old man to that of a young woman. But when you try to find the old man amidst the lines you can't.<br/>
<br/>
Then he changes to a young man—a bearded one. Again, you have the impression that the lines didn't shift, only that the high collar the woman was wearing has taken on a different significance.<br/>
<br/>
Your eye darts about the page at the other faces. Each one is shifting now.<br/>
<br/>
Harris has to pry the book from under your palms.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"But I know it's your book, Grandmother," you plead. The voice on the other end of the phone has fallen silent, but there is still a dry, heavy breathing, like the withered husk of a dead insect scraping across a hard surface. "I held it and I touched it. It's got real magic in it, anyway, and the faces, they changed and shifted all about, just like it says in those notes that Great-Grandmother Lenore left behind! It can't be any other book! And even if it isn't," you add in a faltering voice when the old woman on the other end still says nothing, "I'm sure it's a powerful book you'd like to have."<br/>
<br/>
A deep breath is drawn on the other end of the line. "A body would like t' <i>see</i> it, at least," the old woman says. "Your cousin has it, you say. So you could fetch it for me."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know as I could do <i>that</i> much."<br/>
<br/>
"Then why do you waste my time?" the old woman snaps.<br/>
<br/>
"I might not be able to <i>fetch</i> it," you stammer, "but surely I could show it to—" You quail. Even if you had the nerve to face Grandmother in person, you certainly don't have the nerve to suggest she heave herself out of Cuthbert and come down to Saratoga Falls. Such impertinence she would never forgive. "I could show it to someone that you sent down to look at it. You have such there as you trust, surely?"<br/>
<br/>
For a long minute the old woman only breathes, and now you begin to hope that she will reject the idea and reject you anew. You had forgotten how terrible she can be, and you forebode she has grown only more terrible since you last saw her. <br/>
<br/>
Then Grandmother says, "Such an allowance I might make. But I will not be made a fool of, girl, not even that far." The line goes dead.<br/>
<br/>
You set the phone down with trembling hands. Is returning to Cuthbert and Grandmother's favor worth this much?<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
You're playing solitaire on the computer when the bell on the door rings. You stand and sweep yourself together, then turn to push the beaded curtain aside and step into the front room. He's not an ordinary looking customer: He's a young man, for a start, with a pale face and a smile that looks like a knife wound slashed across the bottom of his face. He's dressed in dirty jeans, a work shirt, and boots. Your first thought is that he's the boyfriend of some girl you accidentally gave bad advice too, come to get a refund ... or worse.<br/>
<br/>
But you start the act regardless. "How may I and dhe sbirits be of service?"<br/>
<br/>
He rubs the rain from his dark, lank hair, and the sneer widens.<br/>
<br/>
"Hello, Cousin Priscilla," he says. "Grandmother sent me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You pry your eyes open and sit up on one elbow. Visions like bad dreams flee in the waking light.<br/>
<br/>
Except there's not a lot of light in here. It's very dim, and there's a musty smell. You look around with a frown, and start a little at Caleb, who is kneeling next to you. "You okay in there, Will?" he says.<br/>
<br/>
You grunt and sit up. <i>Where the fuck and what the fuck?</i> You're sitting on the ground in what looks like a dingy back office, with a table and laptop computer and a file cabinet nearby. For some reason the phrase <i>Chinese restaurant</i> occurs to you.<br/>
<br/>
You put your hand out so Caleb can help you stand. And when you see your red nails, you remember.<br/>
<br/>
You remember <i>everything.</i><br/>
<br/>
Including everything that Priscilla Martin knows and did.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Oh, shit!</i> </span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111323
author_id: seuzz
title: Fun Is Where You Find It
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>The next day is Saturday, and you figure there is no point in looking for that professor up at the university. When your sons drag themselves downstairs you pointedly ask Will if he has any plans for the day. "I 'unno," he mumbles.<br/>
<br/>
"Good," you reply. "Because I've got plans for you." You hold his eye—ignoring Robert's stare of horror—as you outline a mammoth set of projects, both indoor and outdoor, to be accomplished during the day. A glare of haggard hatred briefly sweeps across Will's face before submerging itself in a hard, sullen stare.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's remarkable how much fun you have over the course of the day. Some of it is not very creditable. You yell at Robert a couple of times when you catch his butt sagging, but mostly you confine your barking and slave-driving to Will: Rake the yard, pick up the dead branches, mow the grass, haul the junk out of the tool shed and spread it out, help you sort it before putting it back.<br/>
<br/>
But you find yourself enjoying the work too: the gutter cleaning and the power washing and the replacing of divots and screws for hanging up the lights for Halloween and Christmas. That's because your dad enjoys it, and you're deeply steeped in his mind. He likes it because it's much simpler than his work at Salopek; the tools don't argue back with him, and he can see immediate results.<br/>
<br/>
There's no break for lunch, and the family—including Martha—are drooping when at around two-thirty you declare yourself ninety percent satisfied with the exterior work (because nothing is ever one hundred percent for your dad) and that before moving on to the interior part of the day you will drive downtown to pick up a barbecue feast. "You come with me," you order Will. "I want to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
He's a limp, skinny thing that drapes himself in the passenger seat of the family sedan, but he vibrates like taut rubber band that's been plucked hard. "God damn it, Will," he roars once you're in the street. "I don't give a fuck about being in character, you <i>cocksucker,</i> and I don't care who the fuck you look like or who you're fucking pretending to be, except it's <i>goddamned obvious</i> you're getting off on giving me all these chores!"<br/>
<br/>
"I just didn't want you running off," you calmly reply. "I wanted to talk to you."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Fuck you!</i> We could'a talked without all this—!"<br/>
<br/>
"You miss your dad?" You glance over at Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
His eyes widen. Then he turns very purple. "Fuck you," he murmurs in a trembling voice as he turns away.<br/>
<br/>
"I know why you're pissed," you tell him. "I'd be pissed too. Well, not pissed. But you <i>know</i> my dad puts me to work like this every couple of weeks, and you know I didn't like it either."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Thing is, I understand him better, having to be this way." You pause, wondering slightly at how your mind and mouth veer away from phrases like "having to be my dad" or "having to pretend to be my dad." "When we get all this mess fixed, and he's back—" Your throat briefly threatens to close up as an emotion that feels suspiciously like grief washes over you. "I don't think I'm going to mind it nearly as much when he has me doing this stuff."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, fucking good for you," Caleb sneers. "Like that'll have anything to do with me."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm sorry I mentioned your dad," you reply. "I guess I was just wondering if it— Well, what it was like for you to have a dad again."<br/>
<br/>
"I've got a father," he says very coldly. "At least I assume so. Fuck, maybe he's dead in a ditch someplace. But I don't give a fuck. And for your information, I'm just pretending to be you, Will, I'm not getting all, like—" His voice turns goofy. "<i>Oh, look at me, I'm Will Prescott and suddenly I'm, like, super sympathetic with what it's like to be him!</i> Shit." He slumps, and his tone turns plaintive. "When we got into these things I figured we were going to have some fun. I didn't expect to spend it breaking my fingernails while breaking up mud clods."<br/>
<br/>
His outburst hurts you, but you ignore it. "I was just wondering what it was like for you, being me," you say, and you can't help from sounding a little wounded, a little insulted. "And this wasn't the kind of fun I was expecting either."<br/>
<br/>
A silence falls between you for a couple of blocks, before Caleb speaks. "You said you wanted to talk to me. What about?" He still sounds very sulky.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh deeply. "I did a little research online, looking for people who could maybe help us out. There's a professor up at Keyserling who teaches anthropology. Some of the classes he's taught make it sound like he might know something about this stuff.<br/>
<br/>
"The masks?"<br/>
<br/>
"No. Magic in general. The sigils we've been using. You know, we've just been using the book like an instruction manual, like a cook book." You feel your mouth settling into a grim line. "We need some deep expertise."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's voice is a hard sneer: "I don't think we want to show any of this stuff to anyone else."<br/>
<br/>
"I was thinking more along the lines of 'mind reading'," you reply.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb stares at you, then shrugs. "Do whatever you want," he says, and turns away. "And if you don't need my help anymore—"<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Yeah, the "chore" thing seems to have backfired on you, and you make a mental note to go easier on Caleb in the future. At the same time, though, you resent his resentment, especially the way he seems resigned to letting you handle the research chores from now on. <br/>
<br/>
And so you very seriously consider the possibility of cutting him loose, and of tackling this professor directly. On Monday you can find an excuse to leave work and go up to the university when that professor is in his office—he has office hours posted on the department website—and talk to him to figure out if he would be worth copying.<br/>
<br/>
But the main reason you wanted to talk to Caleb was to consult on making an indirect approach to the professor. You're not sure you want to consult with someone about magic while using your face or the face of anyone in your family. Caleb has made up a bunch of masks, and he wants to have "fun" with them. If you made a copy of someone at your school, you could use it to approach this professor, and then Caleb would get a mask to have "fun" with afterward.<br/>
<br/>
On the third hand, though, you don't have to cooperate with Caleb to do that. In fact, you don't have to get a mask of anyone to use as an alias, because you've already got one. Thanks to that fight at the school, you have a mask of Lester "The Molester" Pozniak, and you could use that alias to approach the professor.</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113232
author_id: seuzz
title: Thinking Past the Caper
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>"If you want to have some fun," you tell Caleb, "start thinking about who you'd like to get a mask of."<br/>
<br/>
Your friend doesn't reply immediately; but though you're concentrating on the heavy traffic that is congesting Fortieth Street, you can feel his gaze upon you. "I thought you said we weren't going to do anything like that," he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
"If we're going to get a mask or one of those metal bands on the professor, we're going to need a disguise. Well, maybe," you add, for you're still not sure you do. "I'm not sure I wanna show up in my own face, or my dad's, to ask him about magic or about that book."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's tone is very neutral when he replies. "So who do you have in mind?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's the reason I wanted to talk to you. I guess we could waste a mask just to have a disguise for when I go to visit this university professor." You lick your lips. "But I kind of figure, you know, that maybe it could be someone we could get some use out of later." <br/>
<br/>
You shoot a quick glance at Caleb; your own face looks back at you from his side of the car, and you wonder how much of what he says—or will say—comes from the "Will Prescott" mind he's inhabiting. For your own part, you're aware that you're being held back by your dad's scruples.<br/>
<br/>
So it's with some effort that you add, "Someone we could have some fun with."<br/>
<br/>
And that's all it takes to get Caleb to forgive you. "Well, sure," he says, and he blushes. "So I was thinking," he continues with growing excitement, "maybe one of the Garners—Eva or Jessica, not Marc," he quickly adds. "Or maybe Yumi. You know she—"<br/>
<br/>
"Hang on. What's wrong with Marc?"<br/>
<br/>
He makes a face. "Dude! You wanna handle some other guy's junk? Look what <i>I've</i> been putting up with!"<br/>
<br/>
"There's nothing wrong with—!" you start to flare. "Anyway, lookit what <i>I've</i> been having to put up with!"<br/>
<br/>
In the sudden silence that follows, you prickle all over with embarrassment and horror at an obvious and unspoken question: <i>Have you been fucking your mother while pretending to be your dad?</i> You fight to control the hot, miserable flush that sweeps from your scalp to your neck like a rash, and keep your mouth tightly shut. You broadcast thought-pulses at Caleb: <i>Don't go there don't go there don't go there.</i><br/>
<br/>
"Well, that's different," he says. "But I'm talking about getting someone with boobs and a cunny. Someone we can wear while playing with them." He squirms in his seat. "And when we get tired of doing it from the inside, we put the mask on one of the golems and we—"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop. Right. There."<br/>
<br/>
"Will! That's the kind of fun <i>I'm</i> talking about us having!"<br/>
<br/>
"And I'm not saying we can't do that! All I want to say is that if we do that, we put the masks on the first golem we made. You know, the one that hasn't got my <i>dad</i>—"<br/>
<br/>
"G'yach! Gimme a little credit, Will! No way do I wanna think of your dad's—!"<br/>
<br/>
"Fine. Just as long as we're on the same page. Still," you add, "maybe we should think about using a mask of a guy. Unless that professor is a midget, I don't think Eva or Jessica could jump him and get a mask onto him."<br/>
<br/>
"But there's gonna be two of us there? Right?"<br/>
<br/>
You hadn't thought of that, and as Caleb continues to prattle you turn over the possibilities in your mind. <br/>
<br/>
If you went with Caleb as two girls, you'd have to go as two athletic girls, girls on the sports teams. Even if you went as a guy and a girl, the girl would probably have to be pretty strong and quick—unless, that is, you used a girl as eye candy to distract the professor while the guy got the mask. Caleb would probably like the idea of getting someone who was "eye candy."<br/>
<br/>
You're jerked back into the moment as you turn onto Borman Avenue and Caleb says something about "college students."<br/>
<br/>
"What about college students?"<br/>
<br/>
"I said, Wouldn't it make sense to get a couple of college faces, some college girls to use? I mean, if he is a college professor."<br/>
<br/>
"We don't know any college girls."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure we do. What about Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
You almost drive up onto the sidewalk. </span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132321
author_id: seuzz
title: The Tomboy
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Umeko is your cousin. Yes, she's not related to you by blood, being a Japanese orphan adopted by your Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary; and yes, she's a college student attending Keyserling.<br/>
<br/>
But there is no freaking way you're going to use her face in some kind of impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
Particularly, as you explain to Caleb, if it could get the real girl in trouble with a university professor who could likely track her down on campus.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
The discussion is suspended once you're inside Ben's BBQ, and it doesn't resume until evening, when you and Caleb lock yourselves in the study for another "homework session." Caleb is still enthusiastic about using the Garners, or maybe Yumi Saito, but you bring him up short with a different suggestion: "Jenny Ashton."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny?" He blinks. "Well, sure, she's pretty cute, I guess. But—"<br/>
<br/>
"She's not just cute. She's friends with Eva and Jessica, and Yumi. More than we are, anyway." <br/>
<br/>
That's an important distinction, because you're not as confident as Caleb is about getting to the latter directly. "If we use Jenny's face," you explain, "we can use her to get some of these other girls." A thought occurs to you. "Maybe even someone like Cindy? She'd never talk to us, but she talks to Jenny all the time."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb practically starts to drool. It's a matter of keen debate among a lot of guys, as to who is the hotter cheerleader: Cindy Vredenburg or Chelsea Cooper.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'm in," he croaks. "But how do I, uh—?" He squirms in his chair.<br/>
<br/>
"Bring her out to Salopek tomorrow. Tell her—" You drum your fingers. "Tell her you were talking to me about Carson and James, that they might be a good fit out there, and I asked you to bring her out so I could get a recommendation from her."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb blanches. "What, you're going to pop a mask onto her in your office?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck in a deep breath, and exhale. "Yes. Because I think I'm going to have to take her place. Or you are."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Monday comes, and once again you are so consumed with your dad's workload that you have no thought for the caper to come when you get a text from Will at 3:30: <i>forgot i got detention have to sty here til 5 jennys on way up to see u.</i> <br/>
<br/>
You cuss real hard, then tamp your frustration back long enough to call Andy Keyes and tell him that Will won't be in today on account of a school function. You're at a stopping point anyway, so you call the school and talk to one of the assistant principals about shifting Will's detention to the weekend so that he can make it in to his workplace.<br/>
<br/>
You're still on the phone when there's a knock at your door. Though you're expecting her, it's still a surprise when Jenny Ashton enters in answer to your summons.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny is a tomboy, but not one of the "butch" types. Like Carson and James—who she hangs out with mostly—she's lanky, but she's not notably tall for her sex, and her small boobs tend to disappear inside her voluminous t-shirts. Her best feature is her hair, which is long and thick and brown and which she usually wears free but holds back with a baseball or trucker cap. She also has a very direct stare, which she uses to daunt everyone from the basketball squad on down. <br/>
<br/>
She's got it directed at you now. "Mr. Prescott?" she says.<br/>
<br/>
You almost swallow your tongue, for you half-expect her to recognize that it is <i>you,</i> Will, not your dad who is staring at her. But you affect not to recognize her. "You're Jenny, right?" you say. "Come in, just a minute, please." You motion her to shut the door, and return to talking to Mr. Dow at Westside.<br/>
<br/>
"Sorry about that," you tell her when you hang up. "That was the high school, actually." As you stand up, she puts out her hand to shake yours; it's a very firm handshake, too. "So Will told you what this is about?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sort of," she says. She sits in a chair before your desk as you walk around to the credenza against the wall behind on her. "Something about my friends Carson and James?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Will was telling me about them. They're both pretty keen on science and engineering, right?" Behind her back, you take a mask from your briefcase. "Will and I were talking about how we might have jobs here for other kids, and he was giving me some recommendations."<br/>
<br/>
"Huh. But what does—?" She twists in her seat as you pass behind her, but that's all that comes out before you reach around to press the mask into her face. You catch her head as she slumps, and settle her into the chair so she doesn't slip out of it.<br/>
<br/>
Then, because it would never do to be caught in your office with an unconscious teenage girl, you leave her there, locking your office door behind you and telling the floor receptionist that you'll be taking a quick walk and will be back in ten minutes or so.<br/>
<br/>
But it's a nasty day to be outside—foggy and wet, with patches of rain and the occasional thunderstorm sweeping through—so instead you hide out in a restroom stall with your cell phone and the internet while willing the minutes to pass more quickly. You're trembling slightly as you return to the office about ten minutes later—what if there's someone outside your door, waiting to talk to you?—but the coast is clear.<br/>
<br/>
Jenny is still passed out under the influence of the mask, but it's only another minute before it reappears on her face; you catch it before it can slide off into her lap. You have that golem paste out already, and you apply it to the inside of the mask with a trembling hand, for you are convinced that at any moment the phone will ring or there will be a knock at the door. It's with an unseemly clumsiness that you pop the mask back onto the girl.<br/>
<br/>
She sits up with a gasp, and gives you a look of frozen puzzlement. "Jenny," you tell her softly, "you have to do what I say. Do you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
Her forehead creases. "Er, yes, Mr. Prescott." She blinks rapidly.<br/>
<br/>
"Good. Where do you have to be after you leave here?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't have to be anywhere," she croaks. "I was going to go home."<br/>
<br/>
"No, you will go out to the Acheson Elementary School. Do you know where that is?" You give her directions when she shakes her head. "Wait there for me. It'll be an hour before I can meet you there, but don't tell anyone where you are. Do you understand?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes. Except I don't understand why I'm—"<br/>
<br/>
"You'll understand later," you assure her. "Just go."<br/>
<br/>
With a sigh, she stands up and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You get a text from Caleb not long after, telling you that he's leaving the school and asking what's going on with you. You tell him to hang loose until he hears from you via Jenny's cell phone. <i>Tell your mother you've got plans to meet friends for supper</i>. He replies: <i>cool.</i><br/>
<br/>
Quitting time comes, and you're out on the dot. Your palms sweat on the drive back into Acheson, and you have to take a deep breath when you see Jenny's car parked in the community center parking lot. You park nearby, and when she gets out to meet you, you tell her to wait a minute and then follow you in the direction you go.<br/>
<br/>
You have no trouble getting inside the basement. Jenny appears at the top of the steps a minute or so later, and she flinches as you pass her to close the door behind her. Downstairs, you tell her to sit on one of the tables, and to take her clothes off.<br/>
<br/>
You have to face the fact now: It's not just you who are excited to be alone with Jenny. Your straight-laced dad is too. Somehow, this is even worse than the way he gets randy when your mom is around.<br/>
<br/>
But after telling Jenny to keep quiet and still, you lay yourself out on the desk beside her and pull at your own face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You had also prepared for this moment by putting a layer of that goop inside your dad's mask. So there's not much time lost after you wake with a soft groan. For a moment you're discombobulated, not knowing where you are or how you got there, but it takes only the sight of Jenny Ashton, cringing in a corner, to remind you of what's going on, and why. You summon her over with a word and lay her out on the desk. You pull at her face.<br/>
<br/>
A mask comes away, and she falls unconscious. You quickly roll your father's prepared mask onto her.<br/>
<br/>
You were ogling her small breasts when your dad's hairy chest appears. He sits up with a hard frown.<br/>
<br/>
Your voice quavers as you tell him to be quiet and give him instructions on what comes next: He is to go home, and he's to let the "Will Prescott" who is waiting there go out to eat with friends without making a fuss. He grunts sourly as he takes the clothes you are discarding. Only once does he speak, and that's only in answer to a direct question: "Do you understand what's going on?"<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose so," he says in a tight voice. "And I know I've got to do my best to help out."<br/>
<br/>
You're grateful for that much, and don't ask for any more.<br/>
<br/>
As he exits, you sink back in relief. You don't understand how Caleb is handling it; you could <i>never</i> have worked with your golem-dad.<br/>
<br/>
Well, no time to worry about that now. You swing up on the table, lay back, and settle Jenny's mask onto your face.</span></div></div>


path: 11111121122112111323211
author_id: seuzz
title: Inside Jenny Ashton
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're awake for a good long time before you stir. Goosebumps run up and down your frame, and you hold very still as tiny shudders ripple through you.<br/>
<br/>
It was dark when you opened your eyes, and you blinked several times as you tried to orient yourself. On waking, you were of two minds—literally, you eventually realized. The thought <i>Where the hell am I and what is Mr. Prescott trying to do to me?</i> vied with <i>Am I Jenny now? I'm lying in the school basement staring at the ceiling and I think I remember putting her mask on. So am I Jenny now?</i> It took awhile for the thinker of the one thought and the thinker of the other thought to realize that they were the same person, and that they were you.<br/>
<br/>
When that happened, that's when the goose bumps started.<br/>
<br/>
It's very cool in the basement, but that's not the reason for the delicious shivers. Caleb had been talking about turning himself into a girl for the pleasure of it: the pleasure of putting himself inside a soft body with breasts and secret parts that could be fondled and fingered in the dark—it's dark in here—and when alone—and you're alone now.<br/>
<br/>
But there's a difference between anticipating it, and actually feeling it. You are paralyzed, because you don't know whether to be horrified or delighted by the alteration.<br/>
<br/>
It was different when it was your father. There, it was pure squick on putting yourself inside him. But with nothing else to do except deal with it, you got moving as soon as you had to. Also, you had your dad's very practical psychology to help.<br/>
<br/>
Here and now? You're shy about feeling up a schoolmate anyway, particularly one that you're friends with. As for getting any help from Jenny's psychology, well: She's screaming at you to keep your hands off her body.<br/>
<br/>
But you do have to get moving. You shift on the table, and it's like your joints are made out of stone. They seem to crack with the effort.<br/>
<br/>
Slowly you sit up, and a shudder runs through you as you notice that there's no "package" between your legs to wobble and flop. Instead, you've got a couple of thing on your chest. Your hand automatically goes to them, to hold and support them. A sweat breaks out all over your body as you touch them. <br/>
<br/>
But you don't let go of them, and with your free hand you brush your palm over your thigh and calves. There's a light stubble down there: Jenny will need to shave her legs in a day or two.<br/>
<br/>
As for the other hairy parts of this body: Jenny has long, straight brown hair that falls halfway between her shoulders and elbows, and it's draping about you now. Her forearms are lightly downed with the same. And the bush?<br/>
<br/>
That's the thought of that finally gets you in serious motion. The gears of Jenny's mind engage with yours, and she proves now as practical as your dad: The way to deal with an embarrassment of a naked body is to get dressed!<br/>
<br/>
You feel about in the dark until you find her underthings, and with business-like dispatch you pull them on. There is a very brief, fumbling moment with the bra until you "remember" how to slip it on backward before clasping it and returning it to the front. Then on come the jeans and the t-shirt and the windbreaker. No socks, though: You slide your slim feet directly into a pair of ragged canvas sneakers. From the floor you retrieve the red trucker hat. You push your hair back and snap the hat on brim-forward.<br/>
<br/>
All of that was easy, but you wobble a little on your feet once you stand up. <i>Time for the impersonation.</i> You feel your mouth settle into a firm line as you march up the stairs.<br/>
<br/>
Outside, for just a moment, the world seems a little bigger than you're used to seeing it, and the sense doesn't entirely dissipate until you're settled behind the wheel of the car, which fits around you the way it has always fit around Jenny. You pull the cell phone from the nearby purse—<br/>
<br/>
You pause, unsure whether to remind yourself that it <i>is</i> your purse, or to remind yourself that it <i>isn't.</i> Neither way feels right; both at the same time feel absolutely correct.<br/>
<br/>
You check texts. Good, nothing new since the text from Brianna Kirschke asking if you're free tonight. You send back a short, chirpy, <i>Don't know yet tell me later whats going on.</i> Then you shoot one off to Will Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
Not until you've hit "Send" do you realize that, although Will Prescott hasn't got Jenny's contact info, she has his.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~ ~ ~ ~ ~</div><br/>
"Oh God, here comes Will," Eva moaned. She kept her expression neutral, though, and her eyes widened only a little with alarm.<br/>
<br/>
It was the first week of September, and you were leaning against the wall of the school. Eva was waiting for cheerleader practice to start; you were waiting with her.<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with Will?" you said.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, except he's going to ask me about Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"Why <i>did</i> she break up with him?" you asked, more as a tease than because you were actually interested. Eva gave you a quick, dirty look. Luckily for her, someone called Will's name, and he dodged over to fall in with his friend Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"So set him up with someone," you suggested.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>You</i> set him up," Eva retorts. "I don't know anyone who'd go out with him."<br/>
<br/>
"When did you turn into a snob?"<br/>
<br/>
"I'm not a snob!" She sounds genuinely wounded. "It's just—"<br/>
<br/>
"I should tell him to ask <i>you</i> out."<br/>
<br/>
"Jenny!"<br/>
<br/>
"What's wrong with him?"<br/>
<br/>
"What would you say if he asked <i>you</i> out?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrugged. "I'd go out with him, we'd have a burger, talk, and I'd tell him who I could set him up with."<br/>
<br/>
"Seriously?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. There's nothing wrong with Will."<br/>
<br/>
The bell had rung while you were talking, so Eva got no chance to call your bluff, and apparently she forgot about it, because Will never did ask you out. You saw him off and on over the next few weeks, for he and Caleb and Keith sometimes come out to eat with you and your friends on the quad in front of the school. You didn't pay a lot of attention to him. But a couple of times you found yourself contemplating him as he slouched on the grass with his lunch.<br/>
<br/>
No, there's nothing wrong with Will Prescott, except that he could dress better, stand up straighter, get a hair cut, and more or less stop acting like he's still in middle school. You're not sure what the deal-breaker was with Lisa Yarborough—nor do you care much—but it's the last quality that would probably rule him out with your friends. You don't really object to the way Carson and James dress and slouch, but on the other hand they're really smart and ambitious, and if they dress like slobs it's mostly because they've got more important things on their minds, like their latest scheme for humiliating the basketball squad. You've no idea where Will's mind usually is—though if he's anything like his friend Keith, it's in the gutter.<br/>
<br/>
About a week ago your friend Brianna actually asked you about Will. She didn't know who he was, or his name, and it took a little cross-examination before you figured out he was the guy she was asking about. She wanted to know about him, whether he was seeing anyone, what he was like. You told her that he was a nice guy, sweet but a little goofy, shy, and that as long as a girl was patient with him and didn't expect too much she stood a reasonable chance of having a good time with him. But you also said that you thought she could do better, even as you pulled out your phone to give her Will's contact info.<br/>
<br/>
"No, not for me," she explained. "For Melanie."<br/>
<br/>
You almost dropped your phone. "Melanie?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. She likes sloppy guys like that, and she <i>really</i> needs someone to take her mind off of Eric."<br/>
<br/>
You jammed your phone back in your pocket and told her that you'd shove Will into a tank of piranhas before feeding him to a tigress like Melanie. "What's wrong with Melanie?" was Brianna's cry.<br/>
<br/>
"Nothing, except she's a high-maintenance psycho. Eric could deal with her because he's a fucking sociopath. Will couldn't."<br/>
<br/>
Brianna sniffed and asked when you became such a snob. You were about to retort that you'd set Will up with Brianna so that she could judge for herself whether he could survive a date with Melanie, but just then the bell rang.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
So why does Jenny Ashton have your cell number on her phone? Beats the hell out of you. Not even Jenny remembers putting it in. But she's got dozens and dozens of contacts, so why wouldn't she have yours too?<br/>
<br/>
<i>Mcdonalds on orlando,</i> you told Will when he replied by asking where you want to meet. You twist the key in the ignition and set off for the rendezvous point.<br/>
<br/>
You've already got your fries and are lounging in a back booth when he finally comes loping in. "You gonna get something?" you ask as he slides into the booth on the other side of the table.<br/>
<br/>
He reaches for your fries. "How come, when I can just—?"<br/>
<br/>
You slap his hand away. "Get your own. Get me some more too," you add as you drag three fries at once though the puddle of ketchup.<br/>
<br/>
He does bring you fries, and he brings you an order of nuggets, too, when you ask him to. In fact, you keep him hopping up and down multiple times getting you refills and condiments and other little extra. "Are your legs broken?" he finally demands.<br/>
<br/>
You scrunch your nose up over your smile. "No, but I got a pretty face."<br/>
<br/>
He groans. "So what are you doing about getting me?"<br/>
<br/>
"I've been thinking," you lie. "I've decided to get you—"</span></div></div>


path: 111111211221121113232113
author_id: nirxor
title: Julia Paez -- who has muscle
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You send a message to Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
"Julia Paez, from the basketball team."<br/>
<br/>
Jenny is carefully constructing a path for you, or rather a way to improve yourself, she's always been nice to you and Caleb, more so than Yumi. Then again, you and her used to hangout alot, Will and Jenny had known each other before middle school, she even came over  many times, it's just she grew up and became more outgoing, rather than a still body. She's not harping on you for the breakup with Lisa, she's proud you at least tried, better than waiting till your thirty, but she's focused on the issue at hand, a face for Caleb. <br/>
<br/>
"Uh, the basketball girl right? She's like the second tallest girl on the team, right? Or something.".<br/>
<br/>
Will replies, look slightly more interested, he's akwaradly looking at his phone, until you quickly pull Jenny's out and immediately pull out a picture of Julia from three days ago. They do hang out sometimes, not in the same group though, but she does have an interest in dating, maybe not Will, but she's said he's cute, she likes the idea of training him into being a better sculpted Will. <br/>
<br/>
"Whoa! She's cute and tall!".<br/>
<br/>
"Uhg. Really Will? Try to keep your self under control, stuff like that is something Gordon would do.". Jenny says, she hates it when men start drooling like that, though Will is kinda cute about it, that dorky face with a hard blush looking away. You can see the appeal, but maybe with Julia under your control, maybe Will can be conditioned, or reforged.<br/>
<br/>
"Still, she's really pretty." You chime in, it's true, she is very pretty. She's not sexy as you can see, but she's charming with a smile, great shape, and, has a great personality, as far as Jenny knows her, Julia might actually be okay with Will.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, I'll talk to her tomorrow about seeing you and then we can mask her!". You say with zeal,  getting up and heading out the door, checking your phone, seeing that Yumi and Lin have asked you to chat for a bit at your place.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, I have time to think about it tomorrow, might as well enjoy being Jenny.". You say you sit in her car, smiling at the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
********************************************<br/>
<br/>
"Really Jenny? It so sad he's asking you again, it's sad Lisa chose Geoff over Will. I don't think anyone is fighting over her either, except those two. Not much to fight over in all honesty. It speaks levels about their self esteem, especially Geoff.".<br/>
<br/>
Lin says as the chair she rocks on bounces slowly. She's slow, seductively going as if the world is focused on her, like she's not trying to notice it.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"I wonder if she's going to get laid again tonight, five times with five dudes last time."</i><br/>
<br/>
Jenny thinks, remembering when she learned about Lin's life style, Jenny doesn't say anything to her, Lin won't listen anyways, but she draws the line when Yumi is involved, nobody lures her out to get in trouble.<br/>
<br/>
"Well it's not bad that he's over it. I mean Will tried, and she said no. So I guess that he's finally growing up." Yumi chips in, playing the good of the group stretched out on the bed, letting her down as it falls on the pillows.<br/>
<br/>
"Growing up? That's a boy trying to act like a man, look Geoff at least tries to clean up, or looks like he has it together. Still doesn't make him better, personally I think she could do better, Not much better." <br/>
<br/>
"Okay, then who would you hook Lisa up with? And since we're on the topic, who would you hook up with Will?"<br/>
<br/>
The argument that spawned from hearing that you spent an hour chatting to will hasn't stopped, but in all honesty, the girls like this kind of gossip, not at the level Chelsea or Kim does, but it's nice to enjoy these kind of conversations. Lin and Yumi have their back and forth about who to push together, but it's not really going anywhere, until Jenny's mind playfully tosses in Will and Caleb's next impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
"Well he said he was talking to Julia Paez today." You say with a giggle, Lin and Yumi both turn to face you, flabbergasted by the change in person, hell Julia is way different than Lisa, that's like aiming for the stars in Will's case.<br/>
<br/>
"You're shitting me?". Lin looks confused, which is even sweeter to see, you never knew her, she doesn't say much, but she hates Chelsea and her cronies. The rage she gets from being near them isn't near as bad as it could be, but she doesn't like to waste time on nobody losers either, she like to chat among her friends sure, but talking to them is entirely different, Lin makes it clear if you're worth her time or not, something Caleb learned the hard way.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, well I guess, but I though, Cassie was the girl with a crush on him? Or well I assumed you would tell him that after all this." Yumi is smiling, she likes the gossip, but she also like romance, or well blooming romance, she still hasn't had a solid boyfriend, a lot of boys talk to her though, which make you wonder why? <br/>
<br/>
"I don't want Cassie to get left out, but maybe talking to Julia might help him. I think they go great together, they both make a cute couple! Will and Cassie are almost a match. Not quite, he still needs to get dating thing down.". You say using Jenny's knowledge of the girls around you. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"What the shit, how come I've never even realized there are girls that interested in me?".</i> <br/>
<br/>
It staggering to believe that the number of women interested in you is more than one, with Cassie being the top pick for you. <br/>
<br/>
"A dorky couple of losers, not much there either.". Lin says a slightly amused by the shift of the conversation. "So, are you setting him up to fail? Julia isn't the kind of girl to let him just do things he wants, you know she's a bit, bitchy." <br/>
<br/>
Yumi rolls her eyes,she used to Lin's retorts, but she likes her for some reason, it's not a bad group of friends Jenny has. They're not like Chelsea at all, scheming and plotting, they're a little harsh, especially Lin. Yumi evens it out with her natural stance on being the nicer of the two, while Jenny is the more active and action oriented one.<br/>
<br/>
"Uhg, seriously, talking about this loser Will trying to date Julia, kind makes want to puke. He's not even remotely good looking, what's so good about him anyways Jenny?" <br/>
<br/>
She isn't backing down, you can tell she's annoyed by discussing this, she doesn't like to waste her time and energy on people like Will, but she is right, what is good about Will, about you? <br/>
<br/>
"Remember when he did our math homework, all of ours? On top of that, he changed my tires, he also stood up to Lester and Chen, well he tried. Point is he's not a bad guy, not my top pick, but he might have potential." You reply through your cute smile, Lin isn't really amused, she has Phil doing her math for easy favors but after a while she does see your reasoning, well you need one more push which Yumi delivers.<br/>
<br/>
"Okay Lin, answer me this: out of the three guys we just said who would you date, kiss, or sleep with?".<br/>
<br/>
Yumi says with the same catty energy Jenny exudes, her smile not failing to charm anyone, even Lin giggles a bit. She sits the chair down looking around the room, before getting a piece of paper out, and writing down the carefully made list of the three mentioned guys. <br/>
<br/>
"First off am not a nerd, so I'd kiss Will, hell he'd probably settle for holding my hands or something. Then I'd date Lester, but I wouldn't ever ride in his car, am not taking any risks. Finally I'd have sex with Chen, or at most give him a hand job. Look none of them are worth it, and if by some chance it happens, I'd choose Will, because Jenny said so.." Lin says as looks rather pleased with her approach. "Besides, I've seen you giving the wrestling captain Laurent giving you some serious looks, are you him talking?". Lin says with a playful smile, turning the tables on you in a heartbeat. You feel Jenny's face heat up, her eyes open a little more, she flustered, but Will calms her down, and she fires back.<br/>
<br/>
"He did ask me out a couple of times for dinner. We have had some interesting dates, and, he's such a gentleman. I love it when he holds me on the couch.". Jenny says, twirling the brunette hair, letting her feelings of being on a date with the giant overwhelm you, and well that's not the only thing he made her feel.<br/>
<br/>
"Omg, you didn't? Did you?".<br/>
<br/>
Yumi asks, she's smiling over the whole success of Jenny, she always thought about dating him, but Yumi was the one who set it up, it worked out very well over the summer. You smile at the girls to let them know about the dates and they begin their investigation into Jenny's love life into the evening. <br/>
<br/>
********************************************<br/>
<br/>
The nightly rituals of Jenny aren't to complicated, she watches some anime to your surprise, she does her homework, and, she finishes reading about the book, or rather as she calls is the Grimoire. The idea of studying it is too good. She likes the part of Will that has interests like this, maybe it can help him later with his girl problem, but right now, she's feeling strange, like she's flustered again, her cheeks are red, she's pawing at herself. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"Fuck, Mr.Prescott, if Will wasn't your son, you'd be perfect.".</i><br/>
<br/>
It's a a staggering thought, Jenny visualizing your father over her, on that day, embracing her. Then it hits you, Jenny likes your dad, she liked the idea of a being a big and strong guy, she likes those types of men, your dad and Laurent fit the bill perfectly. Jenny thinks about them for the next hour until she passes out, making you realize how much of an influence she is on the way you can operate in people, but you can't fight her now, your falling asleep, going deeper into being Jenny Ashton.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112112211211132322
author_id: seuzz
title: Coeds for the Caper?
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Umeko is your cousin. Yes, she's not related to you by blood, being a Japanese orphan adopted by your Uncle Scott and Aunt Mary; and yes, she's a college student attending Keyserling.<br/>
<br/>
But there is <i>no freaking way</i> you're going to use her face in some kind of impersonation.<br/>
<br/>
Particularly, as you explain to Caleb, if it could get the real girl in trouble with a university professor who could likely track her down on campus.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Conversation is suspended once you're inside Ben's BBQ, which is locally famous for its fare. You're standing to the side of the register after ordering and staring into the middle distance when Will flinches and nudges you. "You're gonna get me <i>killed,</i> Dad," he mutters in his most sarcastic tones.<br/>
<br/>
"What's your problem?"<br/>
<br/>
"You were staring at Chen."<br/>
<br/>
"Who?" You glance around in time to notice a figure in a dark, heavy jacket and a gray ski cap go swaggering out the front door. "Was that Chen?"<br/>
<br/>
"Who else? Jeez, what were <i>thinking?</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"What was I doing?"<br/>
<br/>
"Only staring at him as he came out the back. At least I guess you were. He saw you and then he saw me and then he told me he was gonna fuck me up tomorrow. I should go into school as myself."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb's story bewilders you. "When did he say he was gonna—?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, he didn't say it out loud. He said it with his eyes, though." He shivers all over.<br/>
<br/>
Gary Chen is one of the nastiest thugs at Westside: a gangbanger who combines the slit-eyed menace of a Bruce Lee with the personal styling of an urban warrior. He deals drugs—both personally and through a gang he controls—and hangs out with guys as bad as himself: David Kirkham, Joe Thomason, Joshua Call, and others. About the best you can say for him is that he's not a bully in the traditional sense, not the way the Molester is, who seeks out enemies to torment. But he is notoriously touchy, and people who do nothing more than look at him with the wrong sort of expression on their faces have had to drag themselves into the nurse's office afterward—and have never (except in whispered confidences with chosen friends) confessed as to <i>who</i> exactly thrashed them to the point of hospitalization.<br/>
<br/>
But you don't have time to answer Caleb's grumbles before your order is called, and you and he collect three large sacks full of barbecued ribs, brisket and sausage; baked beans, potato salad and coleslaw; and fries, onion rings and Texas toast.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
After the late lunch (or is it an early supper?) you declare yourself satisfied with the day's work and dismiss all the subsequent chores. You also lay down on the sofa for your dad's traditional Saturday afternoon nap.<br/>
<br/>
Later that evening, suitably refreshed, you have another "homework session" with Will. But during this one you don't investigate the book or the spells—which have baffled you—but talk quietly about which aliases from school you might approach the professor under. Caleb, as you'd anticipated, is keen to use two girls. But you tell him it's got to be a girl and a guy.<br/>
<br/>
You're both stymied by the fact that neither of you are close to a lot of people, and are both pretty far from anyone who could be useful in the kind of raid that you're thinking about pulling. "Eva and Jessica," Caleb insists. "Or Yumi." Those three are cheerleaders, and you're not close to them but you are friendly with a couple of girls who sometimes hang out with them. "If we get one of them"—Will makes a face—"we can use her face to get one of these guys you've got a chubby for."<br/>
<br/>
But you do actually have a schoolmate that you can get close to: Sean Mitchell, who works at Salopek. And that reminds you that there were a couple of high school students who worked with Mitchell over the summer. You log into the company website and do a search of the payroll records: Yes! Mitchell, Scott Bickelmeir, and Sawyer Harrison. They were fired (but apparently Sean got rehired), but it wouldn't be weird to call one of them in for a meeting.<br/>
<br/>
Harrison you don't know, but Mitchell and Bickelmeir are football players, or maybe wrestlers. (LAX?) Thinking about them, and about the cheerleaders, will naturally bring you around to considering some of the more ... elite ... people in school, like Gordon Black (who captains the basketball team) and Chelsea Cooper (who is the head cheerleader). The latter is certainly eye candy, and the former (her boyfriend) is six-and-a-half feet of vicious muscle. They could be the poster kids for the kind of couple you were thinking of using to distract and then mug this professor. And since you don't like either one—Gordon is a mulish, thick-headed psychopath and Chelsea is a stuck-up bitch—you wouldn't mind using their faces in a caper. Seth Javits and Cindy Vredenburg are another basketball-and-cheerleader couple you could use.<br/>
<br/>
Or Gary Chen? He's not "elite"—quite the opposite—but he could definitely be muscle, and it wouldn't matter what girl you paired him with.<br/>
<br/>
But after you and Caleb entertain each other with these fantasies, you sober up. "No way we can get close to Gordon or Chelsea," he mutters. Then he does a double take at you. "Unless <i>you</i> could?"<br/>
<br/>
"Me? You mean my dad?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Well, he is an adult. If you maybe called them out to Salopek, like you're talking about doing with Bickelmeir—"<br/>
<br/>
He breaks off, and his eyes go wide.<br/>
<br/>
Then he offers a whispered suggestion that you can't believe you've overlooked: "<i>One of the teachers!</i>" </span></div></div>


path: 11111122
author_id: seuzz
title: The New Job
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Friday comes, and you take the blank mind band to school so you'll have it with you for your first day at Salopek. You've not forgotten that you need those chemicals for the next spell.<br/>
<br/>
You spend your first hour at Salopek filling out lots of paperwork and receiving a lot more; you don't think you've made a friend of the secretary when you ask if you'll get paid for the hour. (You will.) She then leads you from the front office through wide alleys to an open, hanger-like building at the rear of the complex, where she introduces you to your supervisor, a tall, rangy man with a tanned and crinkly face. "Andy Keyes," he says, giving you a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, Will."<br/>
<br/>
"Likewise, sir." The man's smile is tight but friendly, and though he seems very businesslike you think you will like him. <br/>
<br/>
He leads you over to a table and has you pick up a hardhat. "Not much of an orientation for this job," he says. "Just do what you're told. I'll put you with one of the boys and you can spend today getting a feel for the place. I'm not around much--they give me a lot of ground to cover--so stick to him and you'll be okay. Sean!" he calls, and a head bobs up from behind some machinery.<br/>
<br/>
Keyes introduces him as Sean Mitchell, another senior at Westside. He's blonde and broad-shouldered, with meaty pecs showing under his tight t-shirt. Instantly you peg him as a football player. But you pay as little attention to the sports teams as you can get away with, so you're not sure.<br/>
<br/>
And that means you're extra surprised when he talks as though he knows you. "Hey Prescott," he says as he crushes your hand in a muscular paw of his own. "Heard you were getting a job out here. Cool." You nod as cheerfully as you can, and mumble something about being glad to have him to hang out with at work.<br/>
<br/>
Keyes doesn't waste much time after introductions, and instructs Sean briefly about what to do with you. Sean nods along enthusiastically, and after he's gone, he slaps you in the stomach. "So, your dad works here too?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah. He's put me onto the job. Made me take it. Does your dad work here too?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean's face tightens. "Mm, no."<br/>
<br/>
"You made it sound like he did."<br/>
<br/>
"No. Oh." He nods with sudden understanding. "I just meant, you're working here, and your dad works here too. You're lucky you got an old man who can give you an in."<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Well, if you say so. I guess. Though it's not like I really want to be here or anything. I mean—" You stop, for it suddenly strikes you how surly and ungrateful you're sounding. "It is great, but I wasn't asking any favors to come out here, it was more his idea, and I was like, Yeah, sure, that'd be good -- "<br/>
<br/>
Luckily, Sean interrupts this embarrassing babble with a laugh. "No, I get you. Dads can be that way, right? 'Here's something to keep you out of trouble, you lazy sack of shit!' Huh?" He laughs again, and gestures you to follow him into the back of the building.<br/>
<br/>
You relax. Maybe things will be alright. <br/>
<br/>
At the moment, Sean shows you and explains to you, he's been fussing with a big piece of equipment that resembles the unlikely offspring of a hippopotamus and a steam shovel. "They're moving this to another building," he tells you, "but it's bolted to the floor. I'm having a hell of a time finding all the places where it's attached, so I'm really glad you showed up. Crawl under this thing with me and let's find those bolts."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
It's dirty, grimy business that takes the better part of forty-five minutes to finish, and before it's done Sean has to fetch something that looks like a small jackhammer in order to remove most of them. But large parts of the table still have to be disassembled before the rest can be removed. "Shit," he says, wiping a streaming forehead with his shirt tail. (You use your hand to wipe your own forehead; Sean has abs that can withstand being glimpsed, but you only have shallow plank that jiggles with a layer of baby fat.) "No way we're getting this done today, and I'll have to talk to Andy about it." He trots over to a phone on the far wall, leaving you alone to take in the hanger.<br/>
<br/>
The ceiling is very high, and the concrete floor is mostly open. But there is lots of machinery and tables and heavy cabinets stacked high by the walls. There are also a couple of open bays in the floor where, you guess, vehicles can be parked and worked on from underneath. You wander around without going far, trying to see if there is anything that looks like it might be useful in that spell. But you don't want to get caught snooping.<br/>
<br/>
As luck would have it, Sean returns with a plan that will let you do all the snooping you could want. "Andy says to leave it for tomorrow. Probably they'll get it taken out in the morning. I'm supposed to just give you a tour of the complex."<br/>
<br/>
After covering the hanger, he leads you out to explore the rest of the grounds. It's a spacious complex spread over many, many acres, surrounded by a high chain link fence topped with hurricane wire. He points out the various buildings and their uses, and telling you which ones you will probably have to do jobs in. "Not a lot of call for brain work in this position," he says. "Mostly you'll be moving things."<br/>
<br/>
"That's what I told Caleb."<br/>
<br/>
"Johansson?"<br/>
<br/>
You're still more surprised to see that he knows Caleb's name. "Yeah, he wanted this job. Thought it would give him an 'in' with the company."<br/>
<br/>
Sean laughs. "Well, unless he can build a working rocket motor from a lot of baling wire and some plywood, I don't think he'd catch anyone's attention."<br/>
<br/>
"Are there, like, explosives and stuff around here?" you ask. It's a wretched segue, but it's the first chance you've had to wrench the conversation around to the subject.<br/>
<br/>
"We got all kinds of shit around here. You won't be touching it, though, so don't worry. You need special training for that. I only know where it is because they tell me where it is so I won't trip over it. They give you a manual at the front office?" You nod. "Study it tonight. It'll have all the warning stuff in it."<br/>
<br/>
You're glad he thought you were afraid of getting close to that kind of stuff, instead of fishing for information so you could steal it.<br/>
<br/>
"Last stop is right here, then we'll knock off," he says, leading you up to a nondescript tan building. "It's our internal distribution center. They'll sometimes send you over to pick things up." He tugs on the door, but it doesn't open. "Jack musta stepped out a moment," he says. He checks his watch and thinks a moment. "Aw, heck, he won't mind if we break in. Stupid."<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean is punching numbers on a keypad. He tries the door, but it still won't budge. He thinks a moment, and curses quietly to himself.<br/>
<br/>
"What is it?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just bullshit." He punches at the keypad again, and this time the door opens. "We had some stuff go missing a few weeks ago, so they stepped up security on this building. Now they're supposed to lock up when there's no one inside." He ushers you in. "They also changed the keypad combo. Which is typical management idiocy, since the burglars came in through a window."<br/>
<br/>
The inside looks a bit like a post office, with a long counter at the front. He leads you around it and through a door into a space filled with metal shelves, most of them empty. "Doors back there," he gestures, "for taking big stuff in and out. This side is for stuff that's come in. The other side is for stuff that has to go out." He grunts. "Not a lot in here now."<br/>
<br/>
"It seems like a big space for not very much."<br/>
<br/>
"When it gets busy we have a lot." He glances down, and kneels to tie his shoe.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart leaps. His head is near one of the shelves. All you have to do is bend behind him and you can put the mind band to his forehead; you can pretend afterward that he cracked his head as he stood up again. Except he's got that hardhat on ...<br/>
<br/>
2. No, too risky (non-canonical): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/111111222" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">The Mystery Box</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/111111222" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 111111221
author_id: seuzz
title: The Boy with Two Brains
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Fuck it, it's an excellent chance. You pull the band out and lean over Sean. He jerks a little as you put your hand to his forehead. Then he falls forward.<br/>
<br/>
Your heart hammers in your chest as you wait, using the time to roll him over and knock the hardhat off. You hear the outside door open, and footsteps, and you hold your breath, wondering if this Jack person is going to materialize. But no one comes in. When the band reappears some minutes later on Sean's forehead, you sweep it back into your pocket and bend down to slap lightly at his cheeks.<br/>
<br/>
With a groan, he opens his eyes and sits up. "Dude, that sounded like it hurt," you say in a quaking voice.<br/>
<br/>
"What happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"You started to stand up again, and <i>whang</i>--" You tap the edge of the shelf. It rattles lightly. No way it would knock someone out.<br/>
<br/>
He looks up at you suspiciously. "I thought--" He frowns, looks at the shelf, looks down at his hardhat, and blinks. "Huh."<br/>
<br/>
You wince at the way he brushes you off as you try to help him to his feet. "Well, that's enough for today." He leads you back out, nodding briefly at Jack--who turns out to be a portly man in his fifties--and striding purposefully toward the front building. For the rest of the day Sean is very brusque, and most of the friendliness has drained from him.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Your dad is waiting for you at the front office, where he greets you with gruff cheer and asks about your day. You do your best to be enthusiastic, though you are rather daunted at having to talk in front of Sean and the receptionist. He then asks Sean about your first day; Mitchell says good things about you, but both his words and attitude are very muted.<br/>
<br/>
Your dad accompanies you to your truck, and leans in at the window after you've gotten in. "Alright, what did you do?" he growls.<br/>
<br/>
"Do? Nothing!" Your dad bores holes in your denial with his eyes. "What? It was just a first day. You think I screwed up already?"<br/>
<br/>
"Mitchell didn't seem that pleased with you."<br/>
<br/>
"That's just Mitchell," you retort, and twinge internally at the unfairness of what you said.<br/>
<br/>
His eyebrows go up. "You know your supervisor that well already?"<br/>
<br/>
"He's not my supervisor. Look at him. I go to school with him. He knows me."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, God," he groans.<br/>
<br/>
"Dad! Just give me a chance! Jesus!"<br/>
<br/>
"Watch your language. But keep your nose clean and your hands in your pockets when they're not asking you to use them."<br/>
<br/>
"Okay!" You roll your eyes, and with a snort he turns away.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You finger the band in your pocket after he's gone, but the conclusion to your workday has left you feeling sour, and you want to get your mind <i>off</i> Mitchell, not crawl into <i>his.</i> You don't want to go home and you don't want to see Caleb either, so you go find Keith at his house. "How was your first day at Caleb's job?" he teases.<br/>
<br/>
<i>Fuck.</i> "Shut up. It was lousy."<br/>
<br/>
"Really? After that huge build up Johansson was giving it, I thought you'd see angels blowing trumpets overhead."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, it's just manual labor. Oh, and you know Sean Mitchell? Get this, he works there, I'll be seeing him every day. Fuck."<br/>
<br/>
His brow furrows. "Sean's a good guy."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but I think he's got a grudge against me now." You give him the airbrushed version of the accident in the warehouse. "He thinks I sucker punched him or something."<br/>
<br/>
"Pfft. With your arms? You couldn't sucker punch a Girl Scout."<br/>
<br/>
"Some of those girls are hard core," you retort, surprising even yourself with the screwball turn. "Like, I saw this twelve-year-old scout the other day, and she looked like a sumo wrestler who got hit with a shrink ray." That marks a permanent evolution in the conversation, and you feel much better by the end of it, good enough to broach the subject of Sean again. "You have Sean for any classes?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, Santiago, first period."<br/>
<br/>
"Can you talk to him tomorrow, tell him I feel really bad about this first day and what happened?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith's expression falls. "Don't you believe in talking to people yourself? You got Caleb trying to find out about Lisa--"<br/>
<br/>
"That's <i>another</i> thing," you exclaim, snapping your fingers. "Chelsea Cooper was-- No, never mind. What were you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"Chelsea Cooper was what?" You shake your head, and he grips you by the shoulders. "Chelsea Cooper was <i>what?!</i> Naked? Touching herself? Kissing another cheerleader?"<br/>
<br/>
"She was just at my locker the other day, made a smartass comment about me and Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Chelsea Cooper talked to you?!</i>"<br/>
<br/>
"To insult me, yeah!"<br/>
<br/>
"I'd let Chelsea Cooper cut off my left nut if she asked me herself."<br/>
<br/>
"And she'd fry it and eat it," you snap. "It wasn't fun. But what were you saying?"<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno." He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, will you talk to Sean for me tomorrow?"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh yeah. No, I won't. Talk to him yourself and apologize if you're feeling so bad."<br/>
<br/>
"I will. I just want you softening him up by asking what happened, tell him I was obsessing about screwing up with him. You know, call me a neurotic if you want. Bitch about me, the harder the better so he'll know I feel sincerely horrible about it."<br/>
<br/>
"Do you? Do you feel sincerely horrible about it?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't give a shit. But it'll be easier working out there if he's not being a dick to me."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You stare in the mirror, and the reflection bores holes back at you. You let your eyes drift over your features: irregular, a little dopey. Stiff blonde hair that sticks out of from under your hat the way straw sticks out of a scarecrow. A nasty patch of zits erupting on your forehead. Your lips are chapped. <br/>
<br/>
Slowly you look down and rub your arm. A thing of no muscle, but you push up your sleeve and grip the bicep. As you flex you press your hand to your weak chest. Not an impressive body. A least you haven't a belly, even if there is no definition to your stomach. You pull up your shirt: oh, a cute little innie. You pull your jeans down slightly so that your boxers show. You like the effect; a baggy-jean look might suit you.<br/>
<br/>
But these aren't baggy. They are very tight as your cock thrusts outward, distending them. <i>Dammit, you're turning yourself on by scoping out your own body!</i><br/>
<br/>
You shake your head, trying to clear it, and jump back onto the bed, hugging your legs and biting your knees. Damn, being in another body is so exciting, even one as mediocre as Prescott's. <br/>
<br/>
<i>No, as </i>mine<i>!</i> you have to remind yourself. But after putting on Sean's mind band it's been a little hard keeping your identity straight.<br/>
<br/>
His mind had come in a rush after you'd put the band on, and then it had vanished. You opened your eyes and wondered where he had gone. But after you'd sat up and started looking around, a sort of double vision enfolded you. It was your room, something so boring and familiar; but it was also a strange place you'd never seen before. As you flipped through the papers on your desk you felt a small illicit thrill, as though you were snooping. It was much messier than ... than your other desk. You'd blinked hard at that thought.<br/>
<br/>
You knew exactly what Mitchell's bedroom looked like, where he kept his stuff, what the ceiling looked like when he lay back in bed and ... Yikes. You'd probed only a little further, gently, as you strolled around your own bedroom, taking it in with a stranger's eyes. Then your gaze had been caught by the mirror.<br/>
<br/>
You take a deep, ragged breath as you grip your legs more tightly. <i>And you thought </i>you<i> were excited by the discovery of the book. Sean's head would explode ...</i><br/>
<br/>
Moved by curiosity as to what your secret alter ego is up to, you shift over to the computer and check his email and log into his Facebook account and some of the message boards he frequents. They don't tell you anything you don't already know, though it's gratifying to see the nicely encouraging replies to his latest bit of fiction.<br/>
<br/>
Then you sit back and trawl for the information you intended to find. Yes, some (though not all) of the elements you'll need for the next spell are out at Salopek. Getting them would be no problem for Sean, as, despite what he'd implied, he's checked out to handle them. For Will Prescott, though ...<br/>
<br/>
You glance over at the blank mask that is now fully polished. You can now think of at least one very good use for it.<br/>
<br/>
2. Copy Sean (non-canonical): "<a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/1111112212" target="_top" title="Interactive Story Chapter in Item # 2236945">The Copycat</a>" <a href="https://www.Writing.Com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2236945/action/view/chapter_map/1111112212" target="_blank" title="Open in new window."><img border="0" height="12" loading="lazy" onmouseout="$(this).css('opacity', '.4');" onmouseover="$(this).css('opacity', '1');" src="https://www.Writing.Com/nw.gif" style="opacity:.4;" width="12"/></a> </span></div></div>


path: 1111112211
author_id: seuzz
title: A Change of Persona
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span><i>Monday.</i> "Yeah, so I talked to Sean at the start of third period," Keith tells you at lunch. He sucks on his teeth and looks you up and down carefully. "I told him you were this emotionally crippled dipshit that no one likes, who goes around panting for love and approval, and never gets it because you're such a squishy fucker, and that you hid in the bathroom on this crying jag during first period because you were pissing yourself over him. You're welcome."<br/>
<br/>
"Awesome. I owe you."<br/>
<br/>
Caleb, who's been leaning against the wall of D wing and looking you up and down as well, sniffs. "Not that I'd quarrel with one syllable of that character sketch you gave our friend, Tilley, but what the fuck are you up to?"<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks at you for guidance. "It's a long story," you tell Caleb. "Oh, and why are you guys scoping me out?"<br/>
<br/>
Neither one says anything for a bit. "I dunno," Caleb finally says. "You're just--" He cocks his head.<br/>
<br/>
"You just seem ... different, somehow," Keith blurts out. "You breathe some bad chemicals at that new job?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think so." You tilt your chin. "You got a problem with me?"<br/>
<br/>
"It's like someone gave you a testosterone shot," Caleb says. "You're just standing there, but it's like you're <i>strutting.</i>"<br/>
<br/>
You're leaning against the wall, one foot propped up against it, arms folded. You've folded the brim of your ball cap up, the way Sean does when he's feeling sassy. "Getting that job musta given me a boost of self-confidence." You roll your shoulders, and tilt your neck to crack a bone.<br/>
<br/>
In truth, it's Sean's mind band, which you wore off and on over the weekend and decided to wear to school. Mitchell is a strong guy, but he's not a jerk and a showoff. Nevertheless, you have surging within you the instincts of a guy who's got a strong body and knows it; and they have overwhelmed your more awkward stance. You'd also spent nearly thirty minutes this morning putting on different combinations of clothes to see which ones would suit your-- You'd had to stop yourself several times of thinking of it as your "new" body, but that was the best way to see yourself with a critical, objective eye. You'd finally chosen a retro-slacker look that wasn't too far from your usual ensemble but had a little more panache. <br/>
<br/>
In fact, such is your panache that you don't even look away when The Molester appears around the corner. You're staring at him with open contempt when his eyes lock onto yours. A nasty grin spreads over his face, and he treads softly over to you. "'S'up, Prescott," he says. Out of the corners of your eyes you see Keith and Caleb sidling way.<br/>
<br/>
"Just hanging out," you say, returning his gaze. Your heart is beating wildly, and a voice inside you is screaming that this is a really bad idea. And yet there is also something very rigid jammed up your spine that keeps you from bending. <br/>
<br/>
"Just hanging out, huh?" Lester muses. "Last time I saw Tilley he was hanging from the flagpole. Well, his shorts were, and he was still in them. Part way." His hand darts out to snag Keith by the collar and drag him back. "Javits did a real nice number on you, Tilley, and I was taking notes. I wonder how Prescott would look hanging there."<br/>
<br/>
"Only one way to find out," you grin back. You have the vivid impression that part of you is trying to jump out and throttle Pozniak, and that the rest of you is trying desperately to drag that part of you back with it into a very small hole where all of you can hide.<br/>
<br/>
Lester sucks in his cheeks and smiles. Slowly, he reaches up and pushes your hat off. "Pick it up, Prescott. No one wants to see your dirty hat on the ground."<br/>
<br/>
"You pick it up." The part of you that is Will Prescott just throws its hands in the air and hides behind the part of you that is convinced you are Sean Mitchell. "Litterbug," you snicker.<br/>
<br/>
The Molester's face turns several different shades of color. <br/>
<br/>
And then he smiles. "I'm gonna like this," he says in a throaty gurgle, as though someone has just offered him a steak and milkshake for dinner, with a naked porn star as the placemat. He stretches a meaty hand for your shirt.<br/>
<br/>
But Sean is a wrestler, and in a flash you sweep behind the Molester and shove him face first into the wall. As he bounces off you slide your arms around and under and over him, searching for a place to grip. He tries batting you away, but you have your hold--<br/>
<br/>
But you are too small and light to do anything except hang on. Shit, where are Sean's muscles and bulk, now that you need them?<br/>
<br/>
The Molester stumbles backwards, and trips over your feet, toppling you both. Luckily, you're lithe enough to twist as you fall, and he doesn't land on you. And then he makes the mistake of trying to turn onto his hands and knees while you still have him, and you quickly pin him -- the way Sean would pin an opponent at a meet. Pozniak is very strong and big, and he grunts and he strains, but Sean Mitchell was one of the better members of a team that has gone to championships. <br/>
<br/>
By now a crowd of students has gathered, shouting and laughing and urging both of you on. Lester puffs and shouts and curses, and you can do nothing but hang on for dear life, wondering how it will all end.<br/>
<br/>
It ends with strong hands seizing you by the shoulders and ripping you off the Molester. You expect it will be a teacher or administrator, but as you wheel you find it is Steve Patterson, the number two player on the school basketball team. He spins you around and then it's your turn to be in a headlock. <br/>
<br/>
Lester rises from the dirt with murder in his eyes. Steve's voice hisses over your head. "Here you are, Pozniak. I'll hold 'im and you take 'im."<br/>
<br/>
The Molester freezes, his face caught between anger and puzzlement. Jeers rise from the crowd of students, and he looks around furtively. "Come on," Steve calls impatiently. "Bloody him up. Get some of your own back."<br/>
<br/>
Lester's face turns black, but he doesn't advance. Steve drops you and shoves you hard, right into Lester, who actually backs away. Patterson raises his hands and cocks his head. "So it's an even fight now, asshole. Or is he too big for you?"<br/>
<br/>
Your tormentor seems to twist inside his own skin, then darts away, pushing students aside with snarls and curses. Patterson's cold gray eyes glitter as he watches Lester depart, then they freeze as they fall back on you. "Wanna try it with me, little man?" he says softly. Hoots go up from the crowd. But you just smile, bow elaborately, and back away. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your neck as you sweep your ball cap up and stride away.<br/>
<br/>
Even Sean isn't stupid enough to tangle with the six-and-a-half feet of rangy muscle that is Steve Patterson.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Maybe it was Keith's counterintuitive buttering up that did it, but probably it was news of your fight with the Molester: Mitchell greets you with a cheerful grin at work. "I heard you thrashed Lester Pozniak at school today." You know what's coming next, of course, and quickly bump fists with him. "Most excellent!"<br/>
<br/>
You also impress him with your quick knack with the work and your ability to intuit and anticipate what he'll ask of you, and you and he are best friends by the end of your shift, so he gladly accepts your suggestion that you get a burger together after work. In the back booth you casually mention you're a fan of a currently running sci-fi show featuring shape-shifters. He leaps at the bait, and you're soon deep into talk of stories about shape-shifters, body swapping, possession and other forms of identity change. Not until he's heedlessly volunteered to having written online fiction in the genre does he realize how quickly and easily you've drawn him out, and turns rather red in the face. "What is it?" you ask, feigning innocence.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, nothing," he says, glancing away while still looking very embarrassed. "It's just, you know, all this stuff we're talking about. It's not like, uh--"<br/>
<br/>
"Oh I get it. It's just a neat thing," you say. "A fun idea." He grunts, and continues grinning hard at nothing. "You know," you add, "it'd be awesome if you could do it in real life."<br/>
<br/>
He laughs. "Yeah, I guess. Like you say, it's a fun idea." He grins out at nothingness, then stands. "Come on, let's go find some of my guys."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He takes you out to Chris Ratliff's house, and the three of you are soon joined by others on the football and wresting teams: Ethan Nieves, Cameron Huber, Devin Haney, and a few others. Talk is loose, confident, dirty, locker-room stuff: not your normal fare, but under the influence of the mind band you fall easily into it and fit right in. There will be a party at Haney's house on Friday night, and his invitation to you is extended as though it's the most natural thing in the world.<br/>
<br/>
On the way back home you reflect on how easy it is to fit into a social group if you have the mind and instincts of one of the members. Based on Sean's own knowledge, you are soon constructing a list of people who might be useful "mental acquisitions": others on the sports teams; some of the bohemian types; one or two Lotharios, to help you with girls. <br/>
<br/>
But your mind also wanders back to Sean. You're less inclined to use the blank mask to copy him, since you're pretty damn sure he'd be glad to help you if he knew about the book and were promised the use of it. Yes, he'd probably make a much more enthusiastic partner than Caleb would have.</span></div></div>


path: 11111122111
author_id: seuzz
title: Inside the Actors' Studio
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You haven't forgotten about the next spell, or the pile of dirt in the school and your need to get the chemicals to complete the spell; but your discovery that you can use the mind bands to alter your social persona is interesting enough that you feel less impatient to get to it. It'll take two weeks or a month of work to scrounge up the money you need if you don't steal it from work, but you feel you can use the time profitably to explore the potential inherent in the mind bands. <br/>
<br/>
So you spend the rest of Monday evening and all of Tuesday evening using the rest of your supplies to make up a small batch of bands. To best use them, though, you'll need the brain of someone who knows the social hierarchy inside and out. It's a grim fact to face, but your best bet would be Charles Hartlein.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
He looks up at you with arched eyebrows as you step into the school auditorium. "Yeah?" he drawls.<br/>
<br/>
"I heard you were having, like, tryouts or auditions or stuff?"<br/>
<br/>
"And who told you that?" His tone isn't nasty, exactly, but it insinuates that he isn't pleased that you are a person to whom such word has come.<br/>
<br/>
"I think Sean Mitchell mentioned it." It's another of Sean's eccentric sides: not only is he on the football and wrestling teams, he is in the drama club as well.<br/>
<br/>
"Mm-hmm." Hartlein looks you up and down. "Well, if we were doing <i>The Wizard of Oz,</i> maybe you'd make a good Scarecrow." He sighs. "We could use some help backstage."<br/>
<br/>
"Can't you give me a chance? What <i>are</i> you doing?" you ask, as though you don't know.<br/>
<br/>
"<i>The Man Who Came to Dinner.</i>" He sighs again. "We've got one part that isn't too hard. Character is supposed to be as stiff as a redwood anyway." He summons you up to table he's sitting at and points to a script. "Not too hard to do it cold. Let's see what you've got."<br/>
<br/>
You flip through the pages to the place he indicates, and bite your lip when you see the role: It's the part that Sean himself is set to play. On the one hand, that's mighty convenient, since Sean's mind band is still inside your head, but you bridle a bit on your friend's behalf to see that Charles might be blithely willing to give it away. You glance through the familiar lines until Charles taps the table impatiently and asks you to start reading. You launch into them while Hartlein himself reads the other parts.<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not bad," he says when you're done. "Even cold, you're as good as the guy who's supposed to play him." Again, you bridle. "I'll let you understudy for this part and maybe a few others. The father, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
"Do I need to talk to Mr. Wilkes?" That's the theater teacher. <br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head. "Any asshole can walk in. Usually, they do." This time the tone is unmistakably nasty. He stares at you. "Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
Clearly he's trying to get rid of you, but you refuse to budge. "I'll just look around, if you don't mind. Never been in here before." He makes a face, but doesn't stop you from wandering around the stage and into the wings and then backstage. <br/>
<br/>
You reemerge a few minutes later on the other side, to find him sitting at the table with his back to you, hunched over some papers and marking them. Stealthily you creep up behind him. He senses your presence at the last moment, but you reach around his head and palm the band onto his forehead. Gently, you let his head fall to the table and bend next to him, pretending to study his notes, until the band clatters onto the table again. You pick it up, and quickly and quietly exit through the wings.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Hartlein is openly and rather obviously gay, but he has a reputation for having his fingers on the pulse of the school. You're not especially eager to bind his mind to yours--if Mitchell's band could turn you effortlessly into a jock, what will Hartlein's do?--so you wait until after work, when you're back at the elementary school, before putting it on.<br/>
<br/>
"Bert Jefferson my ass," you mutter as you peer at yourself in the mirror. You drop into a chair and sneer into the mirror. "My great aunt Jennifer ate a whole box of candy every day of her life," you expostulate, quoting from Hartlein's own role as the title character in the play. "She lived to be 102, and when she'd been dead three days, she looked better than you do now. And now, will you all leave quietly, or must I ask Miss Cutler to pass among you with a baseball bat?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, not bad," you conclude, and continue to regard yourself in the mirror. You should be quite a lot fatter and older to pull off the role, but it's a goddamned high school performance and besides, you don't really care. The play is an old chestnut that you're putting on only because the parents expect it. You rip the band from your forehead and return home, content for the moment to know that the copying process was successful.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
But you've got the mind band with you the next morning, and you step into the restroom before lunch to put it back on. You spotted Eva Garner going into the library, and you think you'll need Hartlein's insolent confidence to broach the subject you want to talk with her about.<br/>
<br/>
"Eva, what was that shit about at my locker the other day?" you ask, dropping your backpack on the table.<br/>
<br/>
She looks up at you in surprise. "What shit?"<br/>
<br/>
"You know, with Chelsea and Kendra." You tilt your head and peer down at her.<br/>
<br/>
She winces. "It was just shit, Will. I didn't even know what she was going to do."<br/>
<br/>
"Well, what <i>was</i> it, exactly, that she wanted to do?"<br/>
<br/>
"She doesn't give a shit about you. It was about Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
"What <i>about</i> Lisa?"<br/>
<br/>
"Not really your business," she says, looking around uncomfortably.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean because she broke up with me. Yeah, and why did she do that, exactly?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know. Maybe she just didn't think you were her type." Your own bluntness seems to have encouraged bluntness in Eva.<br/>
<br/>
You snort. "So what is her type? Tall, dark and gruesome?"<br/>
<br/>
Her jaw briefly falls open, then makes a face at you. "Don't be so bitchy, Will. It doesn't suit you."<br/>
<br/>
You force yourself to uncross your arms and lower your chin. "I was just being myself with her. Apparently that wasn't enough. If I knew what she wanted, maybe I could give it to her."<br/>
<br/>
"If you were being yourself and couldn't figure out what to give her, then— Oh, I don't know."<br/>
<br/>
You roll your eyes. "What<i>ever</i>, Eva. Is Jeremy giving it to you?" <br/>
<br/>
She turns pink. "I liked it better when you had Caleb snooping around for you," she snaps.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
As you pass through the halls, it's like you have an antennae crackling in your head. <i>Virgin nerd. Likes it sloppy. Hasn't even discovered girls yet. Likes to crossdress. Bee-yoop, there goes the gaydar.</i> In the latter case you duck to the side so Jason Lynch doesn't see you. <i>That one knows how to give a party. That one steals cars and goes on joyrides. That one is smarter than he pretends to be. That one is just a loser.</i> "Oh hey, Caleb." You lean against the locker next to his.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey." He follows your glance. "What are you looking at?"<br/>
<br/>
You shrug. "Just taking in the madding crowd. I love this dirty school. It's like a--" You search for a metaphor that Caleb will understand that can convey the impressions that Hartlein's mind is giving you. "It's like a giant ecosystem."<br/>
<br/>
He eyes the crowd with you. "A fucking jungle, that's for sure."<br/>
<br/>
The student body was just a bunch of assholes and ciphers when you'd looked at it before. Now you can appreciate it for its subtleties and complexities. It's not just a pyramid with Chelsea and the cheerleaders and Gordon Black and the basketball players at the top, which is all that you could see before. It's dozens of little niches, all unaware of each other, many of which don't even pay attention to the putative A-listers. <br/>
<br/>
That's good, because the only way to become universally visible would be to go out for sports, and a mind band won't give you the body you'd need. But there are lots of interesting little places you could try to fit into. The smart, upwardly mobile set. The brainy, academic striving set. The little clubs of enthusiasts. The partiers. The artsy bohemians. The good kids. The bad kids. The weird, underground ones with interests and fetishes that they will not display or admit to in public. Getting into each, and being known to swim comfortably with each, would be the only alternative to sports, if you wanted school-wide acceptance and familiarity. <br/>
<br/>
But your mind also goes back to what Eva said, about being the kind of person that would appeal to Lisa. Well, maybe you don't want to appeal to Lisa, particularly, any more. But there are more than a few guys who are very skilled at getting girls to notice and like and want to be with them. </span></div></div>


path: 111111221112
author_id: seuzz
title: Another Personality Takes the Stage
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Do you want to be more popular? Raise your social profile? Sure, we all do!<br/>
<br/>
And you could do that with half the student body just by getting girls to notice you more.<br/>
<br/>
So, you quickly figure, the best way to get what you want is by copying the brain of someone who knows how to flirt real good.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Shayna, am I going to have to buy you a motor scooter?" Charles's voice sounds shrilly from the back of the auditorium. "You're going to have to come in quicker than that, it's a comedy, not a funeral!"<br/>
<br/>
A dark-haired girl—one of five students on stage—bolts for the wings.<br/>
<br/>
A hard silence falls over the hall. Then Charles calls out, "Is she making her entrance again, or do I have go back there and charm the tears away?"<br/>
<br/>
"How about we take a break?" Sean Mitchell hollers from the apron of the stage. "People are getting a little excited."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Not excited enough,</i> retorts the copy of Charles Hartlein that's wedged inside your brain as you lurk just inside the theater doorway. <i>A comedy needs fireworks, and you guys are throwing around wet toilet paper.</i><br/>
<br/>
It's Saturday afternoon, and Charles has exactly two weeks to whip the school's production of <i>The Man Who Came to Dinner</i> into shape, and it looks like the stress has put him in fine form. It's his fourth year in the Westside drama program, and Mr. Wilkes has entrusted him with their first big production of the year. The experience of actually handling a production (instead of being a snarky participant) has given him an uncharacteristic case of the shakes. You would sympathize except that (a) you don't much like Charles, and (b) Charles is hyper-competitive, and the copy inside your head is itching to grab the reins and show the original how it's done.<br/>
<br/>
But you're not here to replace Charles Hartlein as the play director. You're here because his instincts have told you that your next impersonation is waiting backstage.<br/>
<br/>
It took you awhile, even with Charles's encyclopedic knowledge of the student body, to come up with someone who would answer to your needs. It had to be someone who was personally popular with everyone and not just girls; but who was also especially good with girls but was good with them on account of his personality and not only on account of his looks and physique. He also had to be someone you could get at in order to copy; and he also had to be straight. (The last ruled out a lot of Charles's friends, who are otherwise very good with the girls.) It wasn't until yesterday afternoon, as you were finishing off a new metal band, that you had the eureka moment.<br/>
<br/>
The house lights are on, so you can't sneak backstage without the risk of being seen. But the four students still on stage are in a small knot muttering to each other, and up in the back of the auditorium Charles is huddling over a script with Eric Harlen and Dean Stratton. So you scurry down the side aisle and duck through a curtain that takes you backstage.<br/>
<br/>
The student crew are all scowling onto the stage with their arms folded. Charles could tell you all their names and just how good they are at their jobs, if you cared. You yourself know only one guy—Darrell Parson—as someone you've casually conversed with in the library; a few other faces would be familiar even without Charles's help, but you'd be hard pressed to call them by name.<br/>
<br/>
But your target isn't one of them.<br/>
<br/>
One of the girls—a tiny thing with Asian features; probably a sophomore—turns to glare at you as you scoot toward the crossover, but she doesn't stop you. Rapidly you patter your way to the opposite wing, where the poor victim of Charles's tongue-lashing ran. It's dark back there, and you bump into someone with a soft <i>Oof.</i><br/>
<br/>
He does a double-take at you when he turns around. "Hey Will," he says in a soft voice. "What are you doing here?"<br/>
<br/>
<i>Who dat?</i> you ask yourself of the Hispanic guy with the fauxhawk. (You've seen his face in English class.) <i>Carlos Montoya,</i> Charles snaps back. <i>What would you do without me?</i><br/>
<br/>
"Hey Carlos," you reply. "Just scoping things out. I came in for kind of an audition Thursday."<br/>
<br/>
"<i>Audition?</i> Kinda late for that, isn't it? We're two weeks from opening night."<br/>
<br/>
"Charles let me read anyway." You peer around his broad shoulder at the milling crew beyond, but you don't see your quarry. "It was for the Bert Jefferson part."<br/>
<br/>
"Whew! That's Sean's part. You and your teeth better hope Charles doesn't take it from him and give it to you."<br/>
<br/>
"Sean wouldn't do that to me, we're friends. And I wouldn't take it if Charles tried." Faces are turning in your direction, so you touch Carlos on the elbow, hoping you'll look like you belong. "How's the YouTube thing going?" You're almost floored with surprise at suddenly knowing about the movie review channel that Carlos and his friend Michael Hollister have been running for the past year.<br/>
<br/>
"Going great. You been watching?"<br/>
<br/>
"Off and on."<br/>
<br/>
"Keith isn't badgering you into watching?"<br/>
<br/>
The reference to your friend surprises you into looking Carlos in the face. "Why would he?"<br/>
<br/>
Even in the dim light you see Carlos's eyes narrow. "He's been in a couple of them."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Shit!</i> "Well, don't tell Keith," you improvise, "but with him and me it's usually in one ear and out the other."<br/>
<br/>
Carlos returns you a mirthless smile, and you excuse yourself by saying that you want to take a further look around before things start up again. Your time with Carlos was well-spent, though, for no one hassles you as you circle the wing looking for—<br/>
<br/>
<i>And there he is.</i><br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
Chris Love. What a name. What a fucking perfect name for a guy who's effortlessly smooth with the ladies. He's a soccer player too, and he's got blonde hair and a wide, easy smile and soft brown eyes that crinkle up with warm sympathy when a girl pouts at him. He's doing the sympathetic act now, wrapping his arms around Shayna Offerman—the girl who ran offstage—and holding her face in the crook of his neck. <br/>
<br/>
Charles's personality gnaws on the back of your brain. On the one hand, you/he are happy to see Chris do the "charming" that will get her back onstage; on the other hand, it irritates you/he to see him spoil her that way.<br/>
<br/>
It also irritates Charles that Chris, who affects a limp and laidback style with no jock pretensions, is a hundred-percent straight when he could be delightful as a companion. Charles works out these frustrations by calling him "luv" or "Chris, luv," whenever he wants him.<br/>
<br/>
You watch for a few minutes, until Shayna steps back and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her blouse. Chris holds her by the elbows and smiles into her face. He murmurs something, and she nods her head and giggles. The crowd parts as he leads her back to the stage.<br/>
<br/>
Okay, so Chris is here. But how are you going to get him alone where you can slap that metal band onto him? Especially since he seems stuck just off-stage watching Shayna as she and the other actors take their places to resume the scene.<br/>
<br/>
<i>God, do I have to do all your thinking for you?</i> Charles sighs. Before you quite grasp what you're doing, you take out your phone, tap in Chris's number, then compose a text: <i>hey man when u get a minute meet me out in praking lot -marc</i> Then you add: <i>phone died using friends</i><br/>
<br/>
Chris pulls his phone out of his hip pocket and studies the screen. He taps at it. You get the reply: <i>what up?<br/>
<br/>
tell u out here dont make me come in and see charles.</i><br/>
<br/>
Chris grins to himself. <i>Prick,</i> a snide voice mutters inside your brain.<br/>
<br/>
Chris edges away from the stage, and you hustle back the way you came and out the door. You hide just around the corner of the breezeway that Chris will have to exit through to reach the student parking lot.<br/>
<br/>
It's a minute before he appears, and his footfalls are so soft that he's past before you even hear him coming. He stops with his back to you a few feet in front of you and looks around. He doesn't see you, though, before you've caught him from behind with your hand—cupping the band—to his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
He sinks into your arms. You drag him back and prop him up inside the breezeway.<br/>
<br/>
It's a terribly tense ten minutes that pass, with you trotting around every few seconds to check on the door to the theater. You nearly come unglued when it opens and Charles himself steps out with Eric Harlen. "—that couldn't be fixed with a full-person transplant," Charles is saying.<br/>
<br/>
"You mean replace her?" Eric asks. "We're two weeks from—"<br/>
<br/>
"Don't remind me!" Charles sighs and falls back against the door. "I'd be happy just replacing her brain. Or wherever it is that she's <i>not</i> getting the performance from. Though I guess it's really a talent transfusion that's what she needs. She's <i>anemic."</i><br/>
<br/>
Eric snickers. "To bad you can't lend her your brain for the two hours she needs it."<br/>
<br/>
<i>Yeah, like I've got Charles's brain,</i> you snark to yourself as you hop back around the corner before they can look over and see you. <i>Like I'll soon have Chris's.</i><br/>
<br/>
You're bending next to Chris, to pick up the band from the sidewalk where it has fallen, when the full import of Charles's words hits you.<br/>
<br/>
You could totally use these things, which copy memories and personalities and even talents, to give other people—<br/>
<br/>
Like Shayna. Like <i>anybody.</i><br/>
<br/>
—the stuff they need to pull off jobs that are too hard for them.<br/>
<br/>
And even if it doesn't do them any good, it might be hilarious to see the confusion that would result from jamming an extra personality into some of the assholes at school.</span></div></div>


path: 11111122112
author_id: seuzz
title: A Partner
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You wear Sean's mind band to school the next day too, and by now his persona fits so easily into your own that you don't even flinch when someone sharply jostles you at your locker right after fourth period; you look over your shoulder with a glare.<br/>
<br/>
"Watch where you're going, fucker," David Kirkham mutters softly and meaningfully, and rolls the toothpick in his mouth from one cheek to the other.<br/>
<br/>
"Watch yourself, cocksucker," you retort.<br/>
<br/>
"If you wanna make something of it, I got nothing else to do," he says quietly, and hitches his backpack onto his shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"Then let's do it," you return, and step in confidently beside him, jostling your way through the crowds to the nearest exit.<br/>
<br/>
But Kirkham is quicker than the Molester, and he fights dirtier, too. You're barely around the corner of A wing when he kicks you sharply in the shin, tripping you face first into the wall. He drives a hard, sharp punch into your kidney, then spins you around and knees you in the groin. You bend double with great waves of pounding pain rippling up through your torso. He grabs you by the hair at the top your head, pulling your face up. <i>Crack, crack, crack.</i> Quickly but methodically he punches you hard in the cheek and the nose, then knees you in the chest. You fall back against the wall and slump to the ground.<br/>
<br/>
"Remember what you are and what your place is," he says. "Next time you get in my way, take your hat off and apologize." He rolls his toothpick his mouth again. "That, or give a better account of yourself to me." He saunters slowly off back the way he came.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"Kirkham's definitely a psycho," Sean says sympathetically when you see him at work that afternoon. "Best to just stay away from him."<br/>
<br/>
"You've never gotten in fight with him, right?" You phrase it as a question, though of course you know the answer.<br/>
<br/>
"He won't mess with me because he won't catch me alone," Sean says. He grimaces. "Nothing against your friends, Will. Tilley or Johansson are great guys, but hanging around them is like hanging three 'Kick Me' signs on your ass."<br/>
<br/>
"It'd look kinda funny if I hung out with you and your friends," you grumble.<br/>
<br/>
He stares a moment, then actually looks wounded at the implication that you wouldn't fit in with his crowd. "Hey, we all had fun last night," he protests. I mean--" He looks embarrassed. "You don't want to hang around with us just for <i>protection,</i> right?" He makes a face.<br/>
<br/>
"No! And it was a lot of fun with you guys. I kinda surprised myself." Sean smiles at your words. "Hang out again after work, this time with me? I got someplace I wanna show you."<br/>
<br/>
"Sure. Right now, though--" He points at the boxes. "This shit isn't going to sort itself."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
"So, what do you think?" you ask him after he's looked around the basement a bit.<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs. "Kind of a dump." He gives you a sharp look. "They give you the run of this place?"<br/>
<br/>
"No one knows I can get in here," you say. "I put a new lock on the door almost a year ago, and no one's taken it down yet. I figure they've completely forgotten about it."<br/>
<br/>
Sean grunts and walks over to some of the mask material you have laying out. "What's this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Kind of a science experiment." Your heart starts beating faster. "I moved the stuff out here because it's a better place to work. Also, easier to hide stuff here."<br/>
<br/>
"What kind of experiment?" He gives you a curious look as you pull out the old book and set it on the table in front of him.<br/>
<br/>
"I found this at Arnholm's," you tell him. "It's a freaky old magic book, shows how to make masks and stuff. I've been horsing around with it, figuring out how it works. I've made a couple of really neat things."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" Sean's interest seems to be fading, and his eye wanders back toward the door as you pull out the mask you'd made of yourself.<br/>
<br/>
"I made this with it. It's a mask of me."<br/>
<br/>
"Doesn't look a lot like you."<br/>
<br/>
"Look closer." You rub the surface. "There's an image inside it."<br/>
<br/>
He frowns as he peers more closely, then slowly takes it from you. His eyebrows work. "It's like one of those magic eye things," you murmur. <br/>
<br/>
Sean turns the mask this way and that, catching the surface in the light from different angles. He turns it over. "Whoa." He's caught sight of your name floating above the band attached to the back.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." You rub your finger along the edge. "It's real magic. Anyone who puts it on will turn into my duplicate. They'll look just like me, enough to fool anyone." Sean's eyes harden with skepticism. "I haven't been able to try it," you say with technical accuracy, "because of course it makes no sense to disguise myself <i>as</i> myself. I was kinda hoping that, uh--" You break off and shrug. "That'd you'd try it out, so we could see if it works."<br/>
<br/>
He holds your eye, then smiles. <br/>
<br/>
"You're really into this shit, aren't you?" he says in a pitying tone. (But you can sense the embarrassment behind his words, for he's into it too. He's even more into it than you are.) "Well, okay, sure. How does it work?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just put it to your face."<br/>
<br/>
He sniffs, then raises it. The mask glows, and he topples forward into your arms.<br/>
<br/>
He's heavy, and both of you topple onto the floor. You push and wriggle your way out from under him, and turn him over. <br/>
<br/>
But it's not Sean Mitchell anymore. It's you.<br/>
<br/>
You catch your breath sharply, and something big and hard leaps into your throat. <br/>
<br/>
Trembling slightly, you shake him. He doesn't move. You shake him again, much more roughly. He groans, and his eyes blink open. He stares at the ceiling intently for a moment, then his eyes twitch over at you. His nostrils flare.<br/>
<br/>
You stand up and reach down to help him up, but he brushes your hand away as he leaps to his feet. He has to grab his belt as he stands, for his pants, which are now a few sizes too big for him, slide down under his hips. He stares at you, breathing hard.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean?" you ask carefully.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah?" he says in a strange voice. Jesus, it's <i>your</i> voice.<br/>
<br/>
"I think it worked," is all that you can think to say. You point past him toward the big mirror that you'd pulled out from the wreckage by the wall. He turns and stumbles over to it.<br/>
<br/>
"Holy shit," Sean says quietly as he stares at himself. He gently touches his face, and his eyes wander slowly over his features. He rubs his left forearm with his right hand, then pushes up the sleeve to grip the weak muscle. He holds his left arm up, flexing it, then rubs his chest. His hand dips down to raise his shirt and stroke his stomach.<br/>
<br/>
"It's not much to look at, I guess," you say. "But it's not a body you usually see in a mirror."<br/>
<br/>
He glances at you. "Where did you say--? Oh yeah." His expression turns thoughtful. "The bookstore." He silently muses. "And that's why you took the job at Salopek."<br/>
<br/>
You're glad the mask doesn't hold any memories you've had since taking the job, since he would have learned what you did to him in the distribution building. Probably you'll have to confess to it at some point, but not now.<br/>
<br/>
"So, yeah, we could have some fun with this book," you say softly. "I've got some ideas for what we could do. I bet you do too, though."<br/>
<br/>
You've got a pretty good guess of what he might like to do with the book and what it can create. But maybe you should let him make the proposals himself. </span></div></div>


path: 111111221122
author_id: smitch69
title: Let Sean propose his
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sean looks at his reflection in the mirror again, still not quite believing it. He pulls at your face that he now wears; it acts just like your own. Pulling a hair out he yelps. "Fuck, even feels like its part of me," he says to himself.<br/>
<br/>
Again he checks your poor excuse for muscle, grasping the thin rake like biceps; only giving a sigh. "Dude, you need bulk up a bit," he says turning to you.<br/>
<br/>
You can only roll your eyes. "Sorry you're so disappointed with my body, but its all I have at the moment."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs and looks back at the mirror. "How many of these things do you have?"<br/>
<br/>
"OK, I've got one blank mask and a couple of bands."<br/>
<br/>
"Fuck we could have some fun with those. So they like knock you out when you put them on? That's a problem. Have you had any ideas?"<br/>
<br/>
You look away from Sean, feeling a little guilty as you've already taken a copy of him. You ponder if you should mention it now, but think better of it hoping that you won't have to. “Well I guess we could cause a diversion and slap it on.”<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks at you as if he's remembered something, but he just shakes his head. He grabs and paws at the edges of his face trying to find an edge. "How do I get it off?” You step up and grab his face and whisper the release spell. He lets out a groan as you pull the mask off and almost passes out as he quickly returns to his original size.<br/>
<br/>
He shakes his head and checks the mirror, giving his restored bicep a flex. “What kind of ingredients do we need?”<br/>
<br/>
“I've got stuff to make masks, but there is still a lot of stuff I need for the next spell.” You give him the list and he looks at it thoughtfully.<br/>
<br/>
“You know...” he looks at you with a smile. “We have all of these ingredients at Salopek.” He taps his forehead. “And I know where to find them.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile. It would seem at least at the moment you're on the same wavelength.<br/>
<br/>
“So what's the plan? We've got a spare mask and some bands - who's next on the list?”<br/>
<br/>
"Well, we could make a mask of you. I mean it would be handy to have," you blush a little, “we could swap places and stuff and I could help getting the stuff we need from Salopek."<br/>
<br/>
Sean's eyes narrow, your not sure if he's angry at the suggestion or thinking.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, we could do that I guess but maybe later,” he looks uneasy rubbing the back of his neck trying not to look you in the eye.<br/>
<br/>
“OK, well I need to get the book to have a look at the spell for binding a band to the mask again,” you explain.<br/>
<br/>
“Where's the book then?”<br/>
<br/>
“It's back at my place, I got it hidden.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sweet!” Sean holds up your mask, “I'll go get it, I wanna try this thing out again.”<br/>
<br/>
Before you can say anything he's slipped your mask back on. Forgetting the effects he looses consciousness and stumbles backwards crashing against the benches cracking his head as he goes, bottles and containers go flying as his thick arm slides across its surface.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as the transformed Sean sinks down to the floor. You give a sigh and pick up the stuff putting it back on the table.<br/>
<br/>
You kneel next to Sean and slap him gently around the cheeks a couple of times, he groans and tries to sit up.<br/>
<br/>
“Fuck!” Sean rubs the back of his head, “Shit! What the fuck happened?” He looked back at you with the narrow eyes you’d seen before.<br/>
<br/>
“Sean, you passed out again when you put the mask on, man you've got to be sitting down or something when you put it on.”<br/>
<br/>
Sean stands up and wobbles a bit, only to suffer the indignity of his pants falling down. He looks at you, then down at his pants, returning to you. There’s a awkward silence and then you both laugh out loud as Sean hoists up his pants.<br/>
<br/>
“I can't go out as you looking like this, have you got anything I can wear?”<br/>
<br/>
You pause and think for a moment. “Yeah,” you point at a duffel bag in the corner, “there's some of my stuff in there see what you can find.”<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks through the collection of T-Shirts and pants and wrinkles his nose at the smell that greeted him.<br/>
<br/>
Sean picked though the clothes and looked around for somewhere private to change.<br/>
<br/>
You sigh, “You know I wouldn't bother, I think I know what my own body looks like.”<br/>
<br/>
He still blushes as he undresses pulling your old clothes on. He then carefully folds his own clothes and put the on a chair before turning to face you.<br/>
<br/>
Holding his arms outstretched he asks, “Well, how do I look?”<br/>
<br/>
“You'll do,” you throw him the keys to your pickup and tell him where in your room the book will be. “Just try not to screw my life up too much OK?”<br/>
<br/>
He flashes you a grin, a mischievous one you use yourself, “As if...” he sniggers.<br/>
<br/>
You follow him to the door; it feels strange seeing yourself walk across the parking lot to the pickup, but the illusion is broken when you watch Sean pull his ball cap from his pocket and put it on, “Idiot,” you say under your breath.<br/>
<br/>
As you turn to go back into the basement you hear your pickup churn up the gravel and screech out of the parking lot. You can only roll your eyes, “phfft.”<br/>
<br/>
Sitting at the bench, you put on some music from the laptop while you’re working on another batch of mask mixture. It's not until you've been listening for a while that you realise it's not the usual stuff you listen to. You rub your forehead and wonder if Sean's memory band is effecting you in some way, after all you've been wearing it for two days now.<br/>
<br/>
You're still in a daze when your phone rings; it's Sean, he's using his own phone.<br/>
<br/>
“Buddy, I can't find the book!”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re shitting me, right?” There's a shakiness in your voice.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I've checked the hiding place, but it's not there!”<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment, “I moved it. I put it behind the ceiling panel in the cupboard.”<br/>
<br/>
You wait for what seems to be an eternity as Sean checks again.<br/>
<br/>
“Got it!”<br/>
<br/>
“I caught Robert in my room, the little shit!”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah that pain the neck brother of yours was snooping around and stuff. Still I think I scared him a bit when I flipped him over and pinned him to the floor, he's locked himself in his room now.” He replies with satisfaction in his voice.<br/>
<br/>
You chuckle, “Now get your ass back here, I need the book again.”<br/>
<br/>
“Be right there.” He hangs up.<br/>
<br/>
It's only been about ten minutes when the phone rings again, “What now!”<br/>
<br/>
This time it was Keith. “Shit, I thought it was you - What the fucks going on Will?”<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, “W..What?”<br/>
<br/>
“I just saw your pickup go down the street getting chased by a cop.”<br/>
<br/>
“You’re fucking kidding me.” You reply fearing the worse.<br/>
<br/>
“Seriously, they stopped it at the end of the street and pulled a guy out of it, I thought it was you.” Keith was practically spitting out the words. “They talked to him for a bit, it didn't look good and then they cuffed him and took him away, grabbed his bag as well!”<br/>
<br/>
You feel a shiver, as you realise that although Sean looks like you he has no ID on him, yours is still in your back pocket and it's quite possible that they have the book too.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112211221
author_id: smitch69
title: Go find the pickup
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You hang up on Keith telling him you'll call him later. You've got more important things to work out now.<br/>
<br/>
Fear sparks, rumbles and bounces around inside your head. You start to mumble to yourself as you walk around in circles, "Fuck, do I get Sean out? Fuck, fuck, does that mean I've got a record now? Shit, what will dad say?"<br/>
<br/>
It was all getting to much, so you decide to at least check out your pickup and see if you could find any clues to what happened.<br/>
<br/>
Leaving the basement you suddenly realise that only Sean's pickup was outside, you could call Keith for a lift but figure it could get even more complicated.<br/>
<br/>
So you check on Sean's pickup, its a lot bigger than yours; but it's locked. You think for a moment and Sean's band springs into action and you remember that he's got a spare key jammed inside the rear wheel arch. Its not long before you get in and start it up, it practically growls as you throw it into gear and speed off to the town centre.<br/>
<br/>
You spot your own pickup and park up next to it, you check the doors; locked! Unfortunately you don't have a spare key.<br/>
<br/>
Looking through the windows, you can't see much just a couple of discarded soda cans.<br/>
<br/>
You look to the end of the road where the Police Station is. Taking a sharp intake of breath you start to make your way down the street keeping to the shadows as much as you can.<br/>
<br/>
Turning down the alley next to the station you look up at the grills on the open windows and guess they must be the cells.<br/>
<br/>
"Sean... SEAN!" you hiss as loud as you dare. You wait for a moment, then try again, this time a little louder "SEAN!"<br/>
<br/>
"What?" He replies, just behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You practically jump out of your skin and shit yourself all at the same time.<br/>
<br/>
"What the fuck are you doing out here?" you shout at him, and then it clicks; he's taken off your mask, he's himself again, although he looks uncomfortable as your clothes are tight and stretched across his chest and arms.<br/>
<br/>
"Come on, let's get back to the pickup" He whispers.<br/>
<br/>
"All I did was jump a light!" Sean pleads, "When I saw the cops I pulled over and pulled off the mask; lucky I was able to remain conscious but only just. When the cops caught up, I was still a little shaky and they thought I was drunk or something, so they cuffed me. Of course I quickly perked up and they just gave me a warning and let me go."<br/>
<br/>
Back at the pickups he shows you both the mask and the book tucked out of sight; Sean simply smiles and gives you a wink.<br/>
<br/>
You both jump into your pickups and sedately drive back to the elementary school.<br/>
<br/>
**********<br/>
<br/>
Back in the basement Sean looks at your mask, his fingers trace the inner surface and edges. "Doesn't this thing come with memories?" he asks. "That way I wouldn't have had to ask you where you put the book?" He scratches the back of his head and winces as he feels the place where he bumped his head, his thick rough cut hair matted with a bit of blood.<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment you pick up the book and turn to the spell glancing through the text again. Sean is looking over your shoulder and suddenly you feel quite small as you're dwarfed by his size. Sighing you put the book on the table and take a chair. Sean sits down opposite you, crossing his arms and leaning forward to see the text. You look at him for a moment; he looks ridiculous in your clothes. He's a big, strong guy, perfect for wrestling and football. He looks up at you and you blink and return to the book.<br/>
<br/>
"See anything?" he asks trying to follow the text.<br/>
<br/>
"Not really, maybe it needs a reset or something. I should just put it on."<br/>
<br/>
As you put it to your face there is a loud crack its like static electricity and you let out a yell; both you and Sean jump. A small waft of burning greets your nose, you suspect it's from Sean's band which you're still wearing.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you OK?" Sean asks, a worried look on his face.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I think so." You rub the sore spot on your forehead, "I think I need a drink though, Can you grab me a soda from my pickup?"<br/>
<br/>
"Sure."<br/>
<br/>
You watch as he dutifully lopes out the door. Quickly you remove the band from your forehead only briefly looking at the name "Sean Mitchell" glistening in its surface before slipping it into your pocket.<br/>
<br/>
Sean returns and cracks open the can and gives it to you, taking a gulp you put it down and look at Sean who winces again as you raise the mask to your face.<br/>
<br/>
**********<br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes and blink a couple of times, Sean's looking down at you with the mask in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Well? How do you feel?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment and realise that you not only refresh the band in the mask but the band also updates your memories. You remember Sean's visit to your house, the tussle with Robert and the shock of not finding the book where you were expecting it."<br/>
<br/>
You look over at Sean, "I can remember your visit to my house."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh really?" He chuckles, "You'll remember me meeting Umeko then?"<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment and blush, "You set me up with a date with her?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, bit of the old Sean magic and she couldn't resist." he smirked. "Guess we should see if it reset the mask eh?" Sean sat at the table before lifting the mask to his face again.<br/>
<br/>
Seconds later he was slumped on the table, transformed into an unconscious version of yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Reaching into your pocket, you pull out Sean's band rubbing your thumb across its metallic surface. Without a second thought you place it on your forehead where it sinks below the surface again.<br/>
<br/>
It's a couple more minutes before your duplicate, groans and raises his head.<br/>
<br/>
"Does it get any easier?" Sean asks.<br/>
<br/>
"To be honest I don't know." you reply with a shrug. "So, can you remember anything?"<br/>
<br/>
You watch as his brow furrows and he laughs out loud "I really shit you up in the alley didn't I?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yes Sean, Yes you did and it wasn't funny" You shoot him look, but he just grins.<br/>
<br/>
He closes his eyes, but then looks up at you then looks away closing this eyes, you could see he was going through some of the older memories of the mask.<br/>
<br/>
Gulping you realised that he would soon know you were wearing the band you made of him on your first day of work."<br/>
<br/>
You're watching him carefully as his head drops; you guess he's fully up to date.<br/>
<br/>
He slowly raises his head to look at you, "Why did you do it Will?"<br/>
<br/>
You can only look away as a feeling of guilt and embarrassment washes over you.<br/>
<br/>
You attempt a reply; a justification, "Well I thought you were kinda cool, confident and knew how to handle yourself."<br/>
<br/>
"You know Will, being me isn't all that great." He pulls at your face he's now wearing, "This isn't the only mask I'm wearing."<br/>
<br/>
He looks away and pulls the tatty old baseball cap from his back pocket. Looking down at the cap he traces its familiar rough texture and broken seams with his fingers."<br/>
<br/>
He looks back up at you, "If you want to know me, you should look deeper into that band," he taps his forehead, "Know what really makes me who I am."<br/>
<br/>
You gulp, he's looking directly at you, sure it's your face looking back but the coolness in his eyes are definitely that of Sean. He says nothing."<br/>
<br/>
You look away and your brow furrows as you start to peel away the upper layers of Sean's memories; school, wrestling, football, friends, the fiction writing, Salopek and home."<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and strip another couple of layers away, it's harder to read these ones.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you touch them, the memories Sean had buried so deep are exposed. Your face drops as a wave of darkness washes over you and you sink to the floor. Images flash before your eyes; a burning pickup, an older brother, he's wearing Sean's baseball cap; no it's his cap.<br/>
<br/>
You open your eyes and look up at Sean though your bangs, he blinks and looks away for a moment, returning his gaze to you a couple of seconds later."<br/>
<br/>
Your lip trembles and a tear forms in your eye and Sean sits next to you, putting a arm around your shoulder, you take the cap and look at it and realise its importance. He gives you a friendly smile "Not so much fun now eh?"<br/>
<br/>
You wipe your eye with the back of your hand and get up, Sean gives you a gentle punch to your gut, "It's my burden to carry, not yours and now you know why I didn't want to share. I hope you can understand why I write the fiction and how theses masks interest me; it's just a way to escape."<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
You hand back the cap, which he takes and puts back in his pocket. He gives you another gentle punch, "You're more than a friend Will, it took a brave man to face my memories, and I feel as if my burden has been lightened in some way, or at least until you remove the band."<br/>
<br/>
A weak smile cracks across your face."<br/>
<br/>
"I suppose I don't mind you making a mask of me, only don't attach the band to it. I don't want it falling into anyone else's hands; I trust you Will."<br/>
</span></div></div>


path: 11111122112211
author_id: smitch69
title: Magical Masking and Flirty Will
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>“What?” Sean smiles at you, tipping his head. <br/>
<br/>
You still think it's a bit weird seeing and talking to yourself. “So you're ready to get masked up, then?” you ask.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, I guess so. But don't we need to make up some more mixture first?”<br/>
<br/>
You take a look in the mixing bowl on the table, “Yup, not even enough for a single mask.”<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks through the containers of ingredients that remain on the table. “Yeah, with what we've got in the bowl and what's left, we've got enough for two more masks.”<br/>
<br/>
“We should get some more ingredients for masks as soon as we can. I think we can get most of them, if not all from Salopek. I’d have to check the stores manifest but I don't think anyone has to sign for it.” Sean beams. You watch as he collects together all the ingredients expertly measuring and mixing them in the bowl. As the mixture starts to bubble and smoke he's not concerned at all, although he does step back as the familiar acrid odour pours into the room. Sitting opposite you watch as your duplicate checks the sigil design in the Libra and compares it to one you've previously prepared on a loose sheet, he places it on the table. It appears that while he's wearing your mask at least he's just as competent as you; something that worries you a bit.<br/>
<br/>
You place the mirror over the sigil and Sean pours out some of the bubbling mixture, it hardens almost immediately. <br/>
<br/>
“Got a light?”<br/>
<br/>
You throw him the matches and he strikes one up. A brilliant blue flame dances across the surface, which you both watch. <br/>
<br/>
Once the flames die down, you gently separate it from the mirror. You check over its dull grey surface as Sean uses the last of the mixture to make another mask.<br/>
<br/>
It's not long before Sean has finished the second mask, you tell him it’ll take about four days to polish up but of course he knows that already.<br/>
<br/>
Sean watches intently as you attach one of the bands to the inside of the mask you're holding.<br/>
<br/>
He goes to hand you the mask he's just finished, but you tell him that'll be his mask, “I'm not putting a band on that one, take it home and get it polished up.”<br/>
<br/>
Nodding he gets up to leave, “Hey buddy, you've forgotten something.” He turns and looks at you confused. You point at your own face and circle it.<br/>
<br/>
“Oh right, of course.” He laughs, and sits at the table before removing the mask he's wearing. You watch as he struggles to remain conscious, his body expands to its normal size and the clothes he's wearing tighten almost ripping.<br/>
<br/>
With a groan he gets up, rubbing his head. He looks over at his neatly folded clothes on the chair, then back at you. With a sigh you turn your back while he changes into his clothes.<br/>
<br/>
You stuff the unpolished mask, your own mask and the Libra into your bag just in case you need them while Sean is getting changed.<br/>
<br/>
It's not long before you're locking up the clubhouse and making plans to meet up the following day. Sean tells you that he has some things he needs to sort out and will call you.<br/>
<br/>
----------<br/>
<br/>
You're sifting though the contents of the locker you share with Caleb. Keith is getting excited, which isn't all that unusual.<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, yeah I was walking past the chem block when I literally bumped into Chelsea and she actually spoke to me.”<br/>
<br/>
“Ooh really?” you ask. “I can see it now, you staring at Chelsea's huge tits while she screams at you for daring to come within fifty yards of her.”<br/>
<br/>
“Huh?” Keith replies, the look on his face suggests that he’s replaying an edited version of the event in his mind.<br/>
<br/>
“I said, oh forget it Tilley there's no talking to you when you've got lust on your mind.”<br/>
<br/>
You only get another “Huh?” from Keith.<br/>
<br/>
Caleb ambles over and shoulders you out of the way to get into the locker, “Hey dipshit, look where you're going.” You growl at him. <br/>
<br/>
You're about to lay into him with some carefully crafted putdowns when your phone ring, it's Sean. You hold a finger up to Celeb, “Hold that thought.” He just looks at you and rolls his eyes returning to the locker.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey Sean, what's up?” You look around at school life as it passes you by nodding as he goes on to tell you that coach has called the football team in to discuss some new game plays that he wants us to study before Fridays practice. “Ok, so see you at Salopek later? Cool!”<br/>
<br/>
You hang up and turn to the locker again, Caleb is giving you a cold look.<br/>
<br/>
“Do you really have to talk about Salopek near me? You know you promised to get me a job there!”<br/>
<br/>
“Pffft, you'd hate it there. It just moving shit around and getting greasy and dirty, you know how much you'd hate that.”<br/>
<br/>
“I don't give a shit, I'd like to find out for myself. Sure I'd have to start there but if got some great ideas I'd like to talk through with the guys there.”<br/>
<br/>
“Caleb you’re living in a dream world, they just want someone to do the shit work. It's normally just Sean and me working in some cold hanger!”<br/>
<br/>
“Yeah, about this Sean guy, what up with that? You hardly hang out with us anymore.” Caleb elbows Keith, who gasps and jabs him back. “I don't know I'm quite enjoying the lack of moaning and pining.” Keith adds, but you've already lost interest as you spot Lisa coming around the corner. <br/>
<br/>
She stops at the lockers getting some books from her own locker, “Hi Keith, Caleb... Will.”<br/>
<br/>
“Hi Lisa, erm.. how are you doing?” You ask tentatively detecting a chill in the air all of a sudden.<br/>
<br/>
“Fine,” comes a blunt reply.<br/>
<br/>
“Erm,” You squirm a little under Lisa’s caustic stare, “have I done something wrong?”<br/>
<br/>
Caleb butts in with, “When does he do anything right?” but visually wilts a little when Lisa turns her attention to him. <br/>
<br/>
“Well, if you don’t know, Will,” Lisa continues switching her sights to Keith to ensure there are no further snarky comments.<br/>
<br/>
“Well?” She returns the stare to you, but all you can do is bite your lip and look at your feet as you nervously heal the locker behind you.<br/>
<br/>
You rack your brain trying to think of something you've done, or not done that might have upset Lisa. But then Sean's band sparks into life which you're still wearing. <br/>
<br/>
You slowly look up at Lisa, through your bangs still biting your lip a little, “You are the brightest ray of light in my life. Your anger makes my world dark. Please forgive me for whatever I've done or said.”<br/>
<br/>
Lisa looks a little taken back, even surprised. Over her shoulder you see Keith giving you a thumbs up whilst in contrast Caleb is mock sticking his fingers down his throat.<br/>
<br/>
Lisa smiles, and wags her finger at you with a smile she adds “Ok, you're off the hook, Prescott.” With a flick of her hair, she turns and leaves.<br/>
<br/>
A huge grin appears across your face as Caleb shakes his head at you.<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks at you like you're some kind of hero, “Wow! Where did you pull that line from?”<br/>
<br/>
“Dunno, just popped into my head.” True of course but if it wasn't for Sean's band you'd still be in the doghouse with Lisa.<br/>
<br/>
You quickly grab your bag and follow Lisa to your next class. </span></div></div>


path: 111111221122112
author_id: smitch69
title: Meet Sean at Salopek.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You roll into the Salopek lot and park next to Sean's pickup. There's a spring in your step as you trot over to the small building next to the main offices, and into the locker room where Sean is already pulling on his coveralls.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Will, you smug bastard," he calls. "What have you been up to?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hanging out with Lisa all afternoon," you grin.<br/>
<br/>
"Really? I thought you were in the doghouse."<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, so did I, but I sweet talked her around."<br/>
<br/>
"Really?" He shoves you lightly and taps your forehead. "You sure you didn't have any help?"<br/>
<br/>
You push his hand away. "Well, maybe."<br/>
<br/>
He clucks his tongue knowingly. "I won't pry, but I can guess. Anyway, here, got something to show you." He walks over to his locker as you start pulling on your own work clothes. To your surprise, he pulls out a perfectly polished mask that shines a clear and brilliant blue. It's the mask you gave him yesterday.<br/>
<br/>
"The fuck," you gasp. "How did you polish it up so quick? It should have taken you about four days!"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well, it should've. I was polishing it for ages and hardly making any progress." He watches as you flip the mask over to inspect its surfaces. "So I had an idea. I've got an electric polisher I use on the pickup, so I used it on the mask. Brought up a nice shine, and it only took an hour."<br/>
<br/>
"Cool," you say, and silently kick yourself for not having the same idea. "We can drop by the clubhouse after work and finish it off." You slap him on the back as you hand it back to him.<br/>
<br/>
Sean smiles uneasily, and it briefly looks like he's going to say something pertinent. But after a fractional hesitation he just stuffs the mask back into his locker. "Well, let's go find Andy, see what he's got lined up for us today," he says. You follow him out and back to the main office block next door. <br/>
<br/>
While Sean asks Debra, the receptionist, if she's seen Andy around, you keep your head down. Partly it's from embarrassment: you recognize that Sean is flirting with the older woman; but you're also nervous about seeing your dad. As your eyes flit about, they light on some promotional booklets on a nearby table. Idly, you start flipping through them. <br/>
<br/>
One of them catches your eye: a much older booklet that looks really out of place. It appears to cover not only specialised services, but also details some of the chemicals available from the seller. It's a familiar looking list. <br/>
<br/>
So engrossed are you that you don't notice Sean walk over, and you jump when he drops a meaty hand on your shoulder, "Whatcha got?" he asks.<br/>
<br/>
You show him the booklet, and watch his expression carefully. He notices what you did. "It's the same list of ingredients that we need," he murmurs, and looks up quizzically at you. <br/>
<br/>
"I know. It's mad." You reach up to take the booklet back, intending to flip deeper into it, but you have to stuff it quickly into your pocket when you hear Andy's voice. <br/>
<br/>
"Hey guys," he says, leaning in through the door. "We're expecting a big delivery early tomorrow. I want you to go the storeroom and help Jack organise some space." Sean nods, and Andy disappears.<br/>
<br/>
It's only a few quick steps over to the storerooms; inside, Jack looks up from a large desk as you and Sean enter. "Ahh, Mitchell," he says. "Need you to clear out the shelves in rows K through S. Check anything you move into its new location." He taps the computer in front of him and swings the monitor around. <br/>
<br/>
Sean makes a face. "Just like last month?" he asks. Jack nods. "We need a iPad or something with an electronic wand. I hate coming out here each time I move a box."<br/>
<br/>
"Talk to the boys in charge of the budget," Jack snaps back. "You'll find your time is cheaper than one of those gizmos. Hop to it. I've got to check through the deliveries with Prescott." You start on hearing your name, and Jack does a double take, and smiles. "No, not you, kid. Your dad."<br/>
<br/>
Sean ducks into the back, but you're seized by a thought, and pull the booklet out of your pocket. "Have you seen this before?" you ask Jack as you show it to him.<br/>
<br/>
He rubs his white beard thoughtfully and lets out a low whistle. "Haven't seen one of those in a long time. Where'd you find the antique?"<br/>
<br/>
"In the front office."<br/>
<br/>
He lets out a low laugh. "Someone needs to cull the stacks. It's a good fifty, sixty years old. One of our old catalogs from back when the business was located in New York." He flips the booklet over and peers at the bottom. "Yeah, here," he points. At the bottom it you see a date ("1946") and an address: SALOPEK Inc. UPDIKE HOUSE, KERVAL CIRCLE, NEW YORK, NEW YORK. "Was run like a proper business back then," Jack adds with at tone of disgust, and with a shake of his head leaves. <br/>
<br/>
"He gone?" You jump a little, and Sean grins from around a corner.<br/>
<br/>
"Huh? Yeah, I was just--"<br/>
<br/>
"I heard," Sean says, and trots quickly to the computer. "Coulda kicked you for delaying him. I want to see if the company's got any of that stuff we need." He pulls a folded piece of paper from his own pocket and leans over the computer. He pecks and types at the computer, and a few moments later waggles his eyebrows up at you. "Oh yeah, and enough that they won't miss a little."<br/>
<br/>
You look over his shoulder. "What do the stars mean?" You point at the monitor, where several of the items are tagged with asterisks. <br/>
<br/>
Sean taps again at the keyboard, and a hiss escapes between his teeth. "Fuck, those are gonna be harder to get hold of. They're in one  of the secure rooms. We'll need keys. And who has those keys?" He taps the keyboard a few more times, and a list names appear: Jack Weiland, Andy Keyes, Harris Prescott.<br/>
<br/>
Sean flicks his finger at the screen where your father's name appears. "Interesting." You don't like the voice he uses when uttering that word. But after staring at the screen another moment, he dismisses the list with another keystroke and straightens up. "Okay, enough of that. Let's start getting the shit sorted."<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You work your way through the rows of shelves, relocating tubs and boxes, and only having to make a few trips back to the computer to enter new data. You're still wearing Sean's mind-band, which is helpful: You know the passwords, and also know how to search and update the records.<br/>
<br/>
It also means you don't have to ask Sean about the three doors in the back of the storeroom; you know they lead to the "secure rooms" he mentioned earlier. When the shelves are cleared and the two of you are leaning against one of the shelves, you nod your chin at them. "That's where we need to get into, right?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah." He folds his arms and walks over to one. It's a good seven feet high, topped by a large, vent-like aperture. Neither of you are tall enough to see inside. But--<br/>
<br/>
"Give me a boost," you say, following Sean up to the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Just what I was thinking," he grins back, and kneels to the floor. You use his bent leg like a step-stool and lift yourself onto his shoulders. He grabs your ankles and stands; you wobble a bit, and then steady yourself against the vent. "See anything?" he asks from below as you peer in.<br/>
<br/>
"Erm, some large bottles, canisters, about fifteen sacks of-- I dunno."<br/>
<br/>
There's a shout from the other end of the room. "You guys done?" It's Jack.<br/>
<br/>
"Jump!" Sean growls. You leap down, and Sean grabs you under the arms and gently lowers you to the ground. "Good job," he whispers as he slaps you on the back. <br/>
<br/>
There's a thoughtful look on your face as you return to the front where Jack is waiting. It's odd that the old Salopek booklet should align so closely with ingredients that the <i>Libra</i> calls for. But you still want to get back to the clubhouse and finish off Sean's mask.</span></div></div>


path: 1111112211221122
author_id: smitch69
title: Return to the clubhouse.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>As you drive to the clubhouse you think about the day. It's been a lot of fun with Lisa at school for a change, and tough and busy at Salopek, shifting all the stock. But in the back of your mind you're still thinking about the old booklet you found. Why does it list all the ingredients for the spell and how are you going to get into those locked storerooms? You had wanted to explore the booklet further, but Sean had brushed you off. You're still a little irked by his attitude--what's the point of having a partner if you don't cooperate closely?<br/>
<br/>
And then, as you drive, you glance into the rearview mirror, to see Sean following you closely in his own pickup. You twitch a little at the thought that forms: You and he will be switching places this afternoon. What partnership could be closer than that? You behind his face, with his mind--you won't need his help or permission to investigate further.<br/>
<br/>
You pull back from the thought, aware that, if pressed, it could lead down a dark corridor. You also know that the corridor leads in the opposite direction as well: he will be taking <i>your</i> place even as you take his.<br/>
<br/>
You park near the school; a minute later, Sean rolls up next to you. He gets out, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. Your smile feels lopsided as you nod at him. "So, you ready?"<br/>
<br/>
He still looks uneasy, but smiles back. "I guess."<br/>
<br/>
Inside, he takes out the blank mask, checking it over once more, and sits at the table, rubbing the back of head. "Definitely going to sit down this time, don't want to go smashing my head again," he says with a grin.<br/>
<br/>
You sit next to him, and your heart beats. "You sure you want to do this?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but you know it's-- It's like giving up what � who � I am." He turns to you." I don't want anyone else wearing it, Will. You know that, don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't want anyone else wearing it either." His expression tightens at your words, and you kick yourself for having made an unintended implication--that you're making some kind of claim on his life. You cover your embarrassment by reaching for the mask. Another misjudgment, for his fingers tighten on it, and you feel yourself wrenching it from him. "You want me to put it on you?" you stutter.<br/>
<br/>
He runs a tongue over his upper lip, then nods. You hold each other's eyes for a moment, then he closes his. You put the mask to his face, and after a moment you're lowering him gently back onto the table.<br/>
<br/>
It's not long before the mask reappears, and you take it and start to work on it. You have to make up some more paste to seal it, but it won't take long. A few minutes later, you hear Sean stir. "Wasn't that bad, was it?" you ask without looking over your shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
"No, no different than putting a mask on, really." You turn in surprise, for it isn't in his voice. You find he's already put your mask back on.<br/>
<br/>
You blink, and it's your turn to feel disconcerted at the speed with which someone is claiming something so intimate from you. "Can't wait to get into my shoes 24/7, eh?"<br/>
<br/>
He's moving quickly, already taking off his clothes, folding them and placing them neatly on the table. "Just need a break, really," he says. "Those past couple of hours as you were nice. Where's those old clothes of yours?" He shivers and hugs his arms to his chest.<br/>
<br/>
"I took them home to get washed." You hesitate a moment, then take your own clothes off and hand them to Sean, who pulls them on. Now it's your turn to feel cold, so you pull on his clothes; the undershirt is way to big for you, as are the polo and jeans. You take up the mask again, dab at it a little more. "There, it's done," you say with some satisfaction.<br/>
<br/>
Again, you hold each other's eyes; and even though you're wearing his mind band, you find yourself struggling to understand what he is thinking. He knows you are inside his brain, and have been for quite a while now. Why should he seem so reluctant to see you take on his appearance? <br/>
<br/>
But after a short pause, he nods, and with a deep breath you put the mask up to your face.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
When you wake again, the room feels somewhat smaller. You look over at your duplicate; his eyes are wide.<br/>
<br/>
"You OK?" you ask. Your new voice rings oddly in your ears.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, it's ... it's just a bit weird." He leans in close and grasps you under the chin. You briefly resist, then let him turn your face from side to side. He checks behind your right ear for some reason. "Looks good!" he finally says.<br/>
<br/>
You stand up and stretch. Sean's clothes fit perfectly now, and your chest swells as you take a deep breath. Clenching you hands you stretch upwards and feel your muscular back tighten. Releasing your hands you bring them down into a double-bicep pose. Your friend's eyebrows quiver playfully. "Damn! I do look good," he quips.<br/>
<br/>
You blush. A characteristic reaction, as Sean always a little embarrassed when he gets compliments. "So I guess we're ready to go now?" He smiles tightly, and you reach out to take the cap--which he is still wearing--from his head.<br/>
<br/>
But he ducks. "Um ... I think I'd like to keep it. It probably means more to me than it does to you?"<br/>
<br/>
A sense of possessiveness flares up inside you. "It'll look a little weird if I'm not wearing it, won't it?"<br/>
<br/>
His lips part, showing his teeth. He seems to struggle for a moment. "Look," he says, clearly trying to master himself. "Let's just not make this a 100% replacement, okay?" He tries to smile, but it is crooked. "Let's keep a <i>little</i> of our old selves, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
It's a shit excuse, and you have to fight the urge to snatch the cap from his head. But then you recognize the source of your anger--it's Sean's own desire for the cap. And that means ... In a flash, you are able to relax, for you know how badly he feels about wanting to keep hold of it. You close your eyes and nod. "Sure thing." <br/>
<br/>
He relaxes too, and tosses you the keys to his pickup. Yet he still must feel something, for draws close, and to your surprise grabs you by the collar and drags you down to his face. �Break my pickup, and I'll break you," he says in a low voice. "I don't give a fuck how small I am, believe me I will hurt you!� <br/>
<br/>
It's a bit odd, being threatened by this small, skinny guy. "Oh, I believe you," you reply, and put a finger to your own forehead. "Believe me, the last thing I want to do is break ... <i>my</i> pickup."<br/>
<br/>
His eyes gleam at your possessive claim, and his lips press together. But then you smile one of his own easy grins back at him, and he relaxes, returning one of your own lopsided grins.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
You weren't just playing with him when you claimed the pickup as your own; every instinct--your own native instincts as well as Sean's--tells you take it easy on the drive back, and you do. The house is quiet when you arrive. <br/>
<br/>
Everything in his bedroom--so tidy and ordered, unlike your own--is instantly familiar. The pictures on the walls, and the shelves with trophies and medals for wresting, and newspaper cuttings for football. There are the pictures, too, showing Sean with his twin brother, Taylor. You feel a twinge at the sight--more of Sean's instincts, but you press them back. Aside from the unpleasant associations, you are reluctant to dig deeper into your borrowed mind.<br/>
<br/>
You drop down at his desk, and glance through the piles of papers. They are story ideas for a fiction blog he works on. The words, oddly, are unfamiliar; perhaps they have not sunk deeply into Sean's own consciousness, and as you read them you feel no spark to continue them. More memories begin to hover around your own consciousness, though. You stiffen as you realize that he has been using fiction to work through some painful events in his life.</span></div></div>


path: 11111122112211222
author_id: smitch69
title: Get some sleep
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Next morning the alarm goes off, and you lean over and thump it hard until it goes quiet. Shivering, you snuggle down again under the blankets again. Feeling uncomfortable and a little restricted, you realise you've got morning wood. Without really thinking about it you lean over the edge of the bed with a groan and pull out a sock from under the bed; with a sudden realisation you drop it again with a feeling of embarrassment.<br/>
<br/>
You lay there dozing for a while as the morning wood subsides. Glancing at the clock again you see its 6:20am. With a groan you get up, and stumble in a dream-like state to the bathroom, but wake instantly when you see your reflection.<br/>
<br/>
The reflection shows a face with a soft fuzzy beard, something completely new. You touch and feel your chin and cheeks, and the soft bristles tingle on your face. It's a new sensation, something your own body hasn't yet developed.<br/>
<br/>
You remove your undershirt, revealing a tattoo that stretches across your left pectoral, shoulder and bicep. Its strange that you've only seen Sean naked when he was wearing your mask; this is the first real time you've seen the whole his body for real and he's got a thick, meaty build. He keeps records, frequently updating a fitness website with his progress--he's 5'9" in height, 185 lbs with a chest of 43". You feel a little dizzy taking it all in, its very different to what you're used to.<br/>
<br/>
After a shower and a shave--a completely new experience--you've come to realise how different Sean's body is from yours. You can't help wondering how he's reacting to yours, and grimace.<br/>
<br/>
Back in your bedroom, with just a towel loosely wrapped around you waist, you study the tattoo in the mirror. It's a complicated design with twisting concentric circles, and something about it seems very familiar. You frown: why is it so hard to pin down Sean's memories here? His whole body suddenly feels strange, as though it has been bound unnaturally about you.<br/>
<br/>
Which, in fact, is exactly what it has been ...<br/>
<br/>
You close your eyes and try to relax, concentrating on the thought that <i>you</i> are now Sean Mitchell. You're rewarded by a sense of well-being when you open your eyes again. <i>Oh, you were just feeling self-conscious about the differences between being Sean Mitchell and Will Prescott,</i> you snort to yourself. <i>You let your old, real self get in the way.</i><br/>
<br/>
Of course the tattoo is familiar: It's based on something Sean found among Taylor's stuff after his death. Turning to his desk, you open one of the drawers and walk your fingers through the carefully organised files to a particular  plastic file. Inside are a number of loose sheets, old stiff and discoloured. Their designs aren't identical to the one Sean's body sports; it's a composite of the three. Under each is a short bit of text in a neat but spidery script. But your eye keeps being drawn to the designs, and again you're seized by a sense of familiarity that you can't place. Something is screaming that these things are connected to you in a way that isn't mediated through Taylor, but you can't put your finger on it. Absent-mindedly you run your hand over the tattoo, and the design seems to prickle under the touch of your hand. The hair on the back of your neck rises, and you suddenly thrust the sheets back into their folder and into the desk.<br/>
<br/>
Glancing at the clock you see it's now 7:20am. Carefully you pick some clothes considering the overall effect before getting dressed and going downstairs.<br/>
<br/>
Your mom is sitting at the table. You briefly talk about schedules. She will be working the late shift and so you'll only be seeing her in the mornings; you tell her you'll be hanging out with friends in the evenings and working on a science project. You give her a loving hug before going off to school. <br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">* * * * *</div><br/>
School drags; you thought that Sean might have some more excitement in classes and with his friends, but it's all quite subdued.<br/>
<br/>
Finally it's time for wrestling practice, which goes smoothly, until near the end, as you're going into the locker room to change. Steve Patterson comes swaggering out, and he mutters, "Queers in spandex" in an audible voice as he passes you.<br/>
<br/>
"Turn around and say that again," you retort, but he leaves the gym without turning around. <br/>
<br/>
But it must be your day to deal with assholes, because while you're changing The Molester, beet red in the face, comes running into the locker room. He hurriedly starts to change back into street clothes.<br/>
<br/>
You can't resist talking to him in this new and stronger form. "Shouldn't you be out on the soccer field?"<br/>
<br/>
"Shouldn't you be on the cheerleader squad?" he jeers back.<br/>
<br/>
A raging heat explodes deep within, and your blood boils. Quick as a cobra, you lash out and grab him by the shirt, pulling him down, and he topples onto the gym floor. Before he can get to his feet again, you punch him squarely in the face with a sharp, well-aimed punch. You look down at him, laying dazed on floor, and a deep feeling of power and satisfaction warms you on the inside and you're enjoying it! You suspect that Sean would be able to control this anger, but this is all new to you and you're still working out Sean's internal workings. <br/>
<br/>
Dimly you hear shouts, but you ignore them, and with nostrils flaring you stride off to the locker room, your head spinning.</span></div></div>


path: 111111221122112221
author_id: smitch69
title: Go meet Sean at the lockers.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You're in the restroom, washing your hands after almost knocking out 'The Molester' in the gym. You look at your face; Sean's not bad looking, good strong jaw with a thick heavy mop of hair that's only just drying out after the shower. Grabbing the seams of the polo shirt you're wearing you lift it and adjust the way it hangs. Your pecs tighten the cloth, but below them it simply hangs loose. You rub your left pec with a meaty right hand, blinking a couple of times at the reflection. It's a strange feeling, Sean feels so strong within but he's one of the most laid back people you know yet on the field or the wrestling mat he's not to be crossed.<br/>
<br/>
Leaving the restroom you stride confidently into the crowd to making your way to the lockers. You see your old self, skinny still a little awkward with your old friends next to the lockers. Sean seems to have slipped into your life really easily, deep down you feel a little jealous that he appears to be having so much fun as you! He’s laughing with Caleb and Keith and even Lisa is talking with him.<br/>
<br/>
Sitting on a bench you watch for a while, only to see other students scatter in the corridor as a very bad tempered 'Molester' bruises his way through the crowd still nursing a bloody nose from your encounter with him in the gym.<br/>
<br/>
Sean and the rest of the group haven't seen him yet and you think about warning him but you let it drop to see how he copes with the bully.<br/>
<br/>
Still watching you see Sean turn and spot 'The Molester', he busts out laughing at the sight out of bloody bits of paper towel stuffed up his nose like some kind of mortally wounded walrus. You surmise that he's still getting used to your persona as well as its something you wouldn't dare do yourself. Caleb and Keith simultaneously jab Sean in the rib's causing him to almost buckle over breathlessly, but its too late he's already homing in on the group.<br/>
<br/>
You edge closer to try and hear whats going on. Keith and Caleb have paled significantly while Sean tries to stifle his laugh.<br/>
<br/>
"What the FUCK are you laughing at Prescott? Have you got a death wish or something?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean, is trying to regain composure but before he can answer 'The Molester' lunges at him shouldering him into the lockers. With an almighty crash Sean bounces off the lockers and sinks to the ground. Bending over he grabs Sean by the t-shirt pulling him to his feet; you see that Sean has little purchase on the ground as he's already on his tiptoes pinned against the lockers.<br/>
<br/>
The Molester's in tight; spitting fury in his face. "You need to learn some respect Prescott, I've had a shit day and the last thing I need is a little dick like you thinking its funny!" He reinforces the suggestion by slamming Sean into the lockers again. Glancing around he spots a bracket up high which is supporting some pipes.<br/>
<br/>
"You need to hang about and think about it." With that he hoists Sean up high hooking the back of his shirt on the bracket.<br/>
<br/>
Molester, shakes his head; "No, you're so dumb Prescott you'll forget this." And with a grin on his face he yanks down Sean's loose fitting jeans. He sneers and looks over at Keith and Caleb who just look the over way; "Nothing to say?" He demands, they both remain silent. The rest of the crowd just laughs at Sean struggling.<br/>
<br/>
The Molester returns his gaze to Sean, with a grin he grabs the baseball cap and puts it on; "Guess I'll have a trophy, when you see me wearing it it'll remind you to show a little respect!"<br/>
<br/>
Sean practically looses it, but he's unable to free himself. You decide that now some intervention is needed.<br/>
<br/>
You make your way through the crowd and walk up behind the bully. He's still mouthing off at Sean, but you're alter ego has seen you.<br/>
<br/>
Lester turns to leave and comes bumps into you; you tilt your head looking at him and raise an eyebrow and then look at Sean still hanging in mid air. You jerk your head at him and he flinches.<br/>
<br/>
"Looks like you've left my buddy hanging there."<br/>
<br/>
With a grunt, Lester grabs Sean and drops him to the ground. Sean scrambles to his feet and pulls up his jeans, pushing Keith and Caleb; "Thanks for you help guys!" They only shrug.<br/>
<br/>
You give Lester a sideways nod and he turns to leave, but Sean shoves him as he passes and grabs his cap. You see Lester clench a fist but he does nothing, you know this isn't over between 'The Molester' and Will.<br/>
<br/>
Sean has little to say after you explain what happened in the gym earlier. He's still quiet when you arrive at Selopek later that afternoon.<br/>
<br/>
You ask him what at the problem is and he tells you how he would have handled 'The Molester' in the gym, "Simply ignore him and walk away." He says in a matter of fact way.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but guys like him will just dig, and dig chipping away at you — what I did today will make him think twice in the future."<br/>
<br/>
Sean gives a resigned nod, "I guess so," He chuckles, "I suppose I didn't play a typical 'Will' either?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, I know better than to point at laugh at him — dumb move." You reply with a smile on your face.<br/>
<br/>
There is little going on in the depot today and you both finish the work Andy assigned relatively quickly. You're still thinking about the booklet and the locked storerooms at the back of the building, but all the ingredients you need to make some more masks are readily available off the shelves.<br/>
<br/>
Between the two of you there is sufficient time to collect the ingredients you need to make a further six masks and bands. Luckily there are few people around and you find it easy to move the items to the pickups.<br/>
<br/>
Returning to the clubhouse Sean unloads the ingredients while you're kept busy labelling and stacking them neatly; something you appear to have inherited from Sean's psyche.<br/>
<br/>
Sitting down opposite your old self you realise how awkward you appear with that straw-like hair sticking out every which way over a face where a familiar outbreak of zits are forming.<br/>
<br/>
Grabbing some sodas from under the table you throw one at Sean; "So it's been a hell of a day so far, was a bit of a shock waking up this morning. Refrained from using 'the sock' by the way."<br/>
<br/>
Sean blushes, but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
"Quite a collection of trophies you've got, and not all of them yours, eh?"<br/>
<br/>
"No, some of them are Taylor's. I guess you saw the pictures then?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I didn't know you had an identical twin."<br/>
<br/>
"Nah, not a lot of people do. He died soon after we started at Westside, maybe just a month or two. I'm surprised you didn't find that out for yourself." He taps his forehead.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, I could have but… " It's your turn to blush, "I still, well I'm still a little scared of digging too deep - you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean bites his lip, "Yeah, I know what you mean; kinda scares me sometimes too."</span></div></div>


path: 1111112211221122211
author_id: smitch69
title: Ask Sean about Taylor
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You take another chug of soda, thinking for a moment you suggest "Whatcha say we make up some more mix?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean beams at you, "Cool, but don't you still have a mask from last time?" He starts to measure out the ingredients; looking up he asks, "How much do we need?"<br/>
<br/>
"Just enough for three," you take the unpolished mask from the backpack. "With this one it means we have two each."<br/>
<br/>
You're still trying to figure out more about Taylor, but still unwilling to delve to deeply into Sean's memory at the moment. "Tell me about Taylor." You ask, watching Sean carefully. <br/>
<br/>
You see him shift uneasily and you realise that he's only going through this exchange to get away from his own past and yet you're pushing him to remember. He closed his eyes; "It was our first year at Westside; the year sucked, we lost dad to the big C." He gives a sigh, "Then Taylor died in August."<br/>
<br/>
You feel uncomfortable that you pressured him now, but nod your head making a sympathetic noise.<br/>
<br/>
He continues to measure the ingredients as he talks, "We were damn tight, shared everything you know?" He grinned, "Nobody could tell us apart, well apart from mom. Dad had to keep checking for Taylor's birthmark behind his ear." <br/>
<br/>
"Hand me that bowl," You watch as he expertly mixes the ingredients, not bothering to check the <i>Libra</i>. "Taylor got a job at Salopek after dad died, that's where he met Scott Bickelmeir." He hissed the name through his teeth. A familiar cloud of smoke billowed from the bowl as Sean pushed it to the middle of the table.<br/>
<br/>
He looked up tipping his head, "Scott Fucking Bickelmeir," he sucks air in through his teeth, "The last time I saw Taylor alive, he was driving off with that bastard." There's a stammer in his voice. <br/>
<br/>
He returns to the bowl, stirring furiously. You know from Sean's memory-band that he has a deep loathing of Bickelmeir ultimately blaming him for Taylor's death.<br/>
<br/>
You can see he's upset and you tell him to go home, and just <i>be Will</i> for a while and forget about Bickelmeir. Smiling weakly he leaves and you finish off making the masks.<br/>
<br/>
Feeling more confident you delve into Sean's memory, where you discover that Bickelmeir is an only child, and a bit of a loaner. More interestingly you discover Sean's jealousy of Taylor spending more and more time with Bickelmeir; they had a common interests in mechanics and towards the end he hardly saw his brother at all.<br/>
<br/>
Your stomach turns as you learn Bickelmeir suddenly transferred to Westside after the accident. Sean believed he moved just to torment him in some sick way.<br/>
<br/>
Shaking your head you stuff the finished masks into your backpack and make your way home.<br/>
<br/>
~~~<br/>
<br/>
It's the next morning and you find yourself slipping into Sean's routine; you rise early and make breakfast for you and your mom.<br/>
<br/>
You remember its football practice today and text Sean on your old phone to say you'll meet him later at Salopek. It's only a couple of minutes later when you get a simple 'k' reply.<br/>
<br/>
The rest of the morning is uneventful, apart from when you have the unfortunate experience of Bickelmeir crossing your path on your way into the school. You shoulder him hard almost knocking him off his feet; turning you growl "Fucking idiot, look where you're going!"<br/>
<br/>
Bickelmeir holds up his hands and backs away; you tip your chin and with a snort you leave. You know that Sean's a nice guy, but there is a deep loathing that burns inside whenever he's near.<br/>
<br/>
You find yourself in a foul mood as you reach Current Issues, your first class. Spotting Keith you drop your backpack and collapse into the seat next to him. You watch him for a moment biting his nails as he's watching some cheerleaders talking, completely oblivious to you.<br/>
<br/>
Waving a hand in front of his face snaps him back and he blinks a couple of times.<br/>
<br/>
"Aww man, they're so hot. I bet they like it dirty; she has to! The clean sweet daddy's girls always do." He groans.<br/>
<br/>
You follow his stare, and they look over; you respond with a coy smile and a subtle flick of your eyebrows. They turn to each other and giggle.<br/>
<br/>
"Did you see that? They looked over and smiled!" He sinks down in the seat, resting his hands on his tenting pants. "Shit, you think I'm in with a chance?"<br/>
<br/>
Rolling your eyes you stifle a laugh, and reply, "Sure Keith, whatever."<br/>
<br/>
You have to click you fingers a couple of times in front of his face to get his attention again before asking if anything interesting has been going on with Will and Caleb.<br/>
<br/>
He tells you how it's actually been a lot more relaxed around Will lately. "Will's being less of a dick and more of a... well a friend, and I think he's actually winning over Lisa."<br/>
<br/>
You blurt out, "A dick? What the fuck do mean by that? You little shit." Before realising you're still in the guise of Sean.<br/>
<br/>
Keith looks a you, his eyes wide. "I was just saying Will can be a bit anal at times; no cut that, most of time; but lately he's been a real nice guy."<br/>
<br/>
It worries you that Sean cannot only slip into your life so easily but it appears he's a much more likeable Will than you.<br/>
<br/>
~~~<br/>
<br/>
Later you catch up with the rest of the football team, doing your best to avoid Bickelmeir. <br/>
<br/>
You give Cameron Huber the team's Quarterback a nod, "Party still on for tonight?" You ask.<br/>
<br/>
He gives you a slow nod and reminds you to see if Will wants to come along.<br/>
<br/>
You watch as he picks up his kit bag, he's stocky built guy with black cropped hair. He's always glancing around listening to conversations, figuring out connections a possible outcomes; you wonder if that's why he's such a good QB on the field. <br/>
<br/>
Grabbing your own kit bag you follow the rest of the team over to the locker room for practice when you get a text message; you shout you'll catch them up as you read it.<br/>
<br/>
It's not from a number you recognise, you scratch your head frowning but read it again; "It was fun being with you at lunch, but I need to talk to you - privately." You think that it can only be from Eva Garner, but it's not her number.<br/>
<br/>
A couple of seconds later another message comes through; "You're looking great," You're a little creeped out that you're being watched. Your phone bleeps again; "... meet me around the corner of A wing." <br/>
<br/>
You watch the rest of the guys bundle into the locker rooms and glance around nervously wondering who's sending the messages.</span></div></div>


path: 11111122112211222111
author_id: smitch69
title: Go to football practice.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You kit up and go out for practice. You're pleased to discover that you're on the opposing team to Bickelmeir and soon get down to playing the game.<br/>
<br/>
You play your regular position as the lineman whereas Bickelmeir plays the Wide Receiver. <br/>
<br/>
He's cussing the team, Huber the QB tells him to pipe down, you guess Sean would ignore it, but you snap and growl at the lineman opposite you to get out of your way when the whistle blows.<br/>
<br/>
When it does your opponent quite wisely steps aside, you hit Bickelmeir hard, enough to feel your weight. You pin him down and he struggles to get up again but you push him down holding him to the ground by his face mask.<br/>
<br/>
“Sean, Sean – easy bro!!” He yells<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly a shout goes out from across the field; it’s coach. "Mitchell! Get your ass over here!"<br/>
<br/>
With a groan you slowly jog over to the coach, the rest of the team whoops and you give them the bird as you pass.<br/>
<br/>
You stop in front of coach and tip your head.<br/>
<br/>
"What the FUCK was that about?" Without warning he smacks you around the head with his clipboard.<br/>
<br/>
You blink slowly tipping your head the other way and you look up at him nostrils flaring.<br/>
<br/>
"Are you giving me attitude Mitchell?" Coach growls.<br/>
<br/>
You do your best to quench the fury boiling within you, and mumble "No sir..."<br/>
<br/>
He smacks the clipboard around your head again, "I can't hear you Mitchell!"<br/>
<br/>
"SIR, NO SIR!" you shout.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, good… now get your ass back there and shake and make up!"<br/>
<br/>
You jog back and Bickelmeir has a grin on his face. He wags is finger at you, and you feel your blood boil again; you wonder how Sean is able to keep his fury under control.<br/>
<br/>
Your jog turns to a run; Bickelmeir panics and jogs backwards not daring to take his eyes off you.<br/>
<br/>
This time you’re not holding back, you dig in hard. There's a dull thud as you make contact, your shoulder hits him heavy in the chest.<br/>
<br/>
For a moment you’re both airborne, and after what seems like an eternity you hit the ground with a unhealthy crunch.<br/>
<br/>
Sitting on him you repeatedly pummel him into the ground. He looks pale, his eyes wide as you shout into his face.<br/>
<br/>
”What was you doing, with Taylor the night he died!”<br/>
<br/>
”Why did you insist on tormenting me by moving to Westside!”<br/>
<br/>
”Why the FUCK..."<br/>
<br/>
Before you can finish the sentence someone grabs you and pulls you off. Struggling, you twist free and spin on your heels to see who it is. Coach!<br/>
<br/>
You look up at him, you're still breathing heavily, your eyes flick between his face and the ground. Deep inside you know you've screwed up big time, this is bound to go on Sean's record.<br/>
<br/>
Coach smacks his palm to your helmeted forehead, "For Gods sake listen to me Mitchell."<br/>
<br/>
You focus again.<br/>
<br/>
"As this is you're first warning, it will only be verbal. I expected so, so much more from you. You've not only disappointed me, but let down the whole team as well. Now get out of my sight! You're off the team for the next game."<br/>
<br/>
You gasp, and your mouth drops.<br/>
<br/>
Behind you Bickelmeir has managed to get to his feet, "Coach it's my fault, I egged him on; its my fault really - I'm sorry."<br/>
<br/>
Coach looks between you and Bickelmeir, "Ok Mitchell you're back on the team, but I want both of you to give me five sprints between the ten and fifty yard marks."<br/>
<br/>
You slowly jog to the ten yard mark, and take off your helmet throwing it to the grass. You start your sprints and are running back as you pass Bickelmeir only just starting his first.<br/>
<br/>
Your mind wanders as you start to get into a rhythm, why did Bickelmeir own up to antagonising you? There was no reason for him to do so.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly you realise Bickelmeir has caught up; not unexpected, he's tall, lean and ideal for a wide receiver. He slows to match your jog.<br/>
<br/>
”Come on big guy, work through it. I know it hurts, push through the barrier!” He shouts. <br/>
<br/>
You frown over at him and flip him the bird.<br/>
<br/>
Thankfully it's the final length and you reach ten yard line and stop dead, resting your arms on your knees breathing heavily. <br/>
<br/>
Bickelmeir slaps you on the back, ”Good Job.”<br/>
<br/>
You look at him, not needing to say anything. He raises his hands and turns jogging back to the locker room.<br/>
<br/>
It's a couple of minutes before you get your breath back and pick up your helmet to walk back following Bickelmeir.<br/>
<br/>
There's a guy sitting near the bleachers he watches you intently. As you approach he stands, he's tall and dark-haired and appears very confident.<br/>
<br/>
”Got a couple of minutes?” He asks.<br/>
<br/>
You take a seat, grateful for the opportunity.<br/>
<br/>
”The names Frank, Frank Durras from Eastman. Just been checking out the team, looking good for the season.” He scratches his nose, ”Sean Mitchell isn’t it?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod.<br/>
<br/>
”Anyway, do you know a guy called Scott Bickelmeir?”<br/>
<br/>
You give him a cold stare, ”Yeah, you just missed him.”<br/>
<br/>
Frank looks over his shoulder, ”Oh that was him? Got what he asked for with that sacking,” he grins at you, ”Maybe you can answer my question. You work at Salopak right?”<br/>
<br/>
You nod, but feel uneasy.<br/>
<br/>
”Why did Bickelmeir and the kid that’s in a coma, um.."<br/>
<br/>
”Harrison? Sawyer Harrison?” You reply, and then kick yourself. <br/>
<br/>
”Yeah that's the guy, why did they get fired?”<br/>
<br/>
You pause and tip your chin, "What is this the Spanish Inquisition?" You in a frustrated tone.<br/>
<br/>
He thinks for a moment, "Not today, but even so I think I asked a fair question."<br/>
<br/>
You look the other way losing interest.<br/>
<br/>
”This would be so much easier if Joe was here.” He mutters under his breath.<br/>
<br/>
He sighs, ”Look, let's have a little wager. You win, I'll answer all your questions. But if I win you have to answer all mine.”<br/>
<br/>
You snort, ”A wager? Like what?”<br/>
<br/>
”You look like a big guy, I’ll give you a chance. Arm wrestle for it?”<br/>
<br/>
You look at him, he’s toned but not as big as you so agree to the wager.<br/>
<br/>
You reach across the table and take his hand, he's got a very strong grip; the game is on. It's a tussle back and forth, although you get the impression that he isn’t putting much effort in.<br/>
<br/>
Biting your lip, you can feel your face redden. You flip between looking at your hand and Frank. He’s focused, but then snaps his head round and stares directly into your eyes. <br/>
<br/>
The corner of his mouth lifts and you see a sparkle in his eye, and then he slams your hand to the table with a crack.<br/>
<br/>
You recover your hand rubbing it hard. You look up at him puzzled.<br/>
<br/>
"Good, now why did they get fired? And wasn't he a friend of your brother Taylor as well?" He asks.<br/>
<br/>
You feel obliged to answer even though it feels you’ve been tricked in some way.<br/>
<br/>
”Yeah, that fucker Bickelmeir worked at Salopak with Harrison. They got fired for drinking at work; idiots! And yeah, Bickelmeir was friends with my brother!”<br/>
<br/>
He’s watching you carefully, ”You know why Bickelmeir moved to Westside?”<br/>
<br/>
”No I don’t,” You rest your head in your hands, wishing you knew the answer yourself, ”I have no fucking idea, they were tight; sometimes I just think Taylor's just going to walk around the corner with him.” You recognise these thoughts, deep from within Sean's memory-band and you start to understand what he’s feeling.<br/>
<br/>
You hear Frank get up and leave, he says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
After you've calmed down you return to the empty locker room and shower up.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~~~~~~</div><br/>
<br/>
You find Sean in the stores at Salopak, tidying up, he looks annoyed, and just answers any questions you fire at him with one word replies.<br/>
<br/>
”Heard about football practice I guess?” You surmise. <br/>
<br/>
He bursts into life, ”You fucking idiot! That could have gone onto my record!”<br/>
<br/>
You recognise the anger that is definitely coming from Sean, it just sounds strange coming from your old body.<br/>
<br/>
”AND! You almost got me benched for the next game!”<br/>
<br/>
”Well, in theory that would have been me..” you reply.<br/>
<br/>
He snaps his head around at you, looking you in the eyes, ”Just don't get to comfortable Prescott.”<br/>
<br/>
You try to clear the air by telling him that he's invited to a party tonight with Huber. He declines saying he's going to the movies with Umeko. Now it's your turn to feel annoyed. <br/>
<br/>
”Don't forget we’ve still got those sacks of grave dirt back at the clubhouse. All we need are a few ingredients for the next spell.” You raise an eyebrow and nod towards the back of the stores. <br/>
<br/>
Sean looks thoughtful, ”Maybe we don't need a key. Perhaps if we got one of them to open the door and we slap a mind-band on them, it would knock them out for a bit just like it did on me and we can get what we need.”<br/>
<br/>
You smile, ”Devious. Do you have one by any chance?”<br/>
<br/>
”Funny you should ask.” Sean grin’s waggling his eyebrows as he pulls one from his pocket. <br/>
<br/>
You feel Sean's memory-band that you're wearing tug at you for a moment, it's telling you to be cautious and to plan it out, you pause for a moment.</span></div></div>


path: 111111221122112221112
author_id: smitch69
title: Go to the party, and plan it tomorrow.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>You've been wearing Sean's mask for half a week now, and maybe some of his caution has rubbed off on you. Your double shrugs as you demur, looking a little disappointed, and follows you back to the locker room.<br/>
<br/>
You're starting to change out of your work clothes when your father walks in and hands you an envelope and a clipboard, which you sign. You peek inside the envelope, to find a check made out to Sean. "Look like the right amount?" your dad asks.<br/>
<br/>
"Uh, yes sir!"<br/>
<br/>
He claps you on the shoulder and turns to Sean, who dutifully signs the clipboard. But he's left empty-handed: no envelope. Prescott senior raises an eyebrow: "Forgotten our deal?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean's eyes flick at you, then widen. "The loan. Aw, shhhh--" He turns the curse word to "sugar" just in time. "Can I pay half now, and the rest later?"<br/>
<br/>
"Nope."  He strides from the room.<br/>
<br/>
"Kinda leaves me short until then," Sean mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Guiltily, you rummage through your jeans and hand him a few bucks. His face brightens--until it hits him that it's his own cash because they are his own jeans. He snatches his paycheck from you. "At least I can get some cash outta this, enough to take Umeko to the movies tonight."<br/>
<br/>
You kick yourself, as it would have been quick and easy to stop him going out with your cousin. "No problem," you say through gritted teeth, and kick yourself for not being able to stop him.<br/>
<br/>
As you turn to continue changing, you remember the four masks you made earlier in the week. "Hey, I've got something for you." Sean looks over as you pull two masks from your backpack. "You were right about that electric polisher. Fast and easy."<br/>
<br/>
He studies their surfaces, then glances over. "You got two as well?"<br/>
<br/>
"Yep." You hand him a tube of sealant. "Some of this for you, too." You can see he's thinking as he slips them into his bag. "You got some ideas already?" <br/>
<br/>
"You bet!" He smiles, then looks at the clock. "Shit, I gotta get ready for tonight!" He gives you a cheery back slap as he dashes out the door.<br/>
<br/>
You make your way home more slowly, thinking about possible targets for yourself. <br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~~~~~</div><br/>
<br/>
As you drive to the party--in a favourite polo and cargo shorts--you reflect on the way Sean managed to get Umeko to go out with him. There's no mystery to it. Sean has a natural ease around women of all ages, something you haven't mastered unaided. He's able to say all the right things, all the time. You think for a moment and realise it isn't just women, it's everyone. You guess that's how he got the 'good guy' tag. <br/>
<br/>
You pull up at the house of Cameron Huber, the football team's QB, and recognise the cars and pickups of Chris Ratliff, Ethan Nieves and Devin Haney from the wrestling team. Chris opens the door with a smile. "Hey! Sean!"<br/>
<br/>
"Bro!" You grab his hand and pull him in close, bumping shoulders. "Who's here?"<br/>
<br/>
"The usual suspects; just a guys night, you know, talking shit and stuff." He hands you a can of beer and leads you into the den. "The big guy's here!" he shouts out.<br/>
<br/>
You work your way around the group, bumping fists, and collapse in the chair next to Cameron, who's watching a recording of the final period of one of Westside's football games. You punch him on the arm as he throws a perfect line. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about, fucking awesome every time." <br/>
<br/>
He pushes you back with a laugh, but notes your silence at Scott Bickelmeir catching the ball. He rests a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, it's a shame he's such a dick 'cos he's a good player."<br/>
<br/>
"Whatever."<br/>
<br/>
Cameron looks at you, and rises. "Come on, lets get some air." You follow him outside. "So what's the history with you two?"<br/>
<br/>
You take a gulp of beer and knead your forehead with your knuckles. "It's complicated. He was friends with Taylor, worked at Salopek before getting fired for drinking on the job." You suck air through your teeth. "I saw Taylor driving away with Bickelmeir the night he died." You sigh. "When I asked Bickelmeir what happened, he refused to talk, even acknowledge they'd been together. I just shut him down, pushed him away. And then he followed me to Westside, like he was stalking me." You finish your beer.<br/>
<br/>
Cameron puts his arm around your shoulder. "Bro, I know its been hard. I can't change history, but I'll talk with him, tell him to keep out of your way." He takes your empty can. "Let's get you another."<br/>
<br/>
When you return to the den, the middle of the room has been cleared. Ethan and Devin are setting up the closet door on a couple of chairs.<br/>
<br/>
You smile. "Beer pong, most excellent!" You count the guys again. "We need at least one more."<br/>
<br/>
Cameron smiles. "Got it covered." There's a shout from the front door. "You know Danny Russo?"<br/>
<br/>
As if in answer, Russo, the lacrosse goalie, walks in, dropping his kit bag. He raises both his fists. "The reigning beer pong champion HAS arrived, OOOH YEAH!"<br/>
<br/>
He's about 5'8" but thick and stocky, with short cropped hair. Blue eyes shine from under expressive eyebrows, and it looks like he's got a couple of days stubble on his chin. He's wearing cargo shorts and a LX team vest.<br/>
<br/>
He makes his way around the group, bumping fists until he reaches you. With a lopsided smile he bumps your fist, but there's a glint in his eye. "Sean! Big guy! Look's like it's you and me on the winning team tonight." He flashes a smile as the other guys roll their eyes and cuss him.<br/>
<br/>
Danny sets up the cups, and pours beer into all but the middle one. "Hey Huber, you got any hard stuff for the bonus?" Cameron tosses him a bottle of vodka which he uses to fill the middle cup, winking at you.<br/>
<br/>
You're first up against Cameron and Ethan. Danny paces back and forth, looking like he's going to explode. He throws the ball, and it arcs gracefully through the air to plop into the center cup. "OOOH YEAH! " He dances in a circle and punches the air. <br/>
<br/>
You try a different technique, eyeing your target you bounce the ball on the table. It heads towards one of the back cups but Cameron bats it away. You bite your lip and curse, but Danny slaps you encouragingly on the back.<br/>
<br/>
The games continue, and the cups fill up higher and higher. Danny clowns; you can't work out where he gets his energy. It takes a couple of hours, but you're eventually acknowledged as the winning team. <br/>
<br/>
You collapse into one of the chairs, head swimming, and give Danny a goofy smile as he drops into the seat next to you. "Did good, bro, proud of yous," he says, his voice slurring.<br/>
<br/>
The night deteriorates, as the discussion turns to the basketball team and Gordon Black in particular.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, he's a jerk some of the time, but he's not all bad," Cameron groans.<br/>
<br/>
"More like all the time," you snort.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, well we've been talking. He's been giving me some tips, you know captain talk and stuff."<br/>
<br/>
You blink, "Seriously? Cameron, you don't want to be taking any ideas from Black. Almost all his team are shit scared of him. That's not the way to motivate the team." <br/>
<br/>
He nods, but says nothing.<br/>
<br/>
<div align="center">~~~~~</div><br/>
<br/>
You wake Saturday, bleary eyed, to find yourself on the couch with an unfamiliar weight on your torso. As you stir, four chairs tumble from your chest to the floor. You ignore them as you check the time on your phone. <br/>
<br/>
And your eyes snap open when you realise you have to be at work in an hour. You also notice a lot of notifications from Facebook. Flipping through them you groan at the many pictures from the previous night, many showing things you don't remember.<br/>
<br/>
You say your goodbyes to the guys that are conscious, and Danny shouts at you before you leave. "Hey! bro, give me a lift?" Without waiting for your okay, he grabs his kit bag and follows you out to the truck. To your surprise, he seems unaffected by the night's drinking; and to your irritation he keeps looking at you with a big grin on his face. "Where can I drop you?" you ask.<br/>
<br/>
"Salopek will be great." He says with a chirp.<br/>
<br/>
"You don't work there though."<br/>
<br/>
"Danny doesn't," he grins. "Will does, though." <br/>
<br/>
You slowly turn toward him. He points to his face, still grinning. "OOOH YEAH!" He yells.<br/>
<br/>
You slam on the breaks, "Get the fuck out of here!"<br/>
<br/>
He snaps his head down and does a little dance in the seat. "Snagged Danny in the car park, while waiting for Umeko. This guy has so much energy and is totally fearless. Damn! No wonder he's a great goalie."<br/>
<br/>
"Weren't you going to the movies with Umeko?"<br/>
<br/>
"She cancelled. Thought I'd take up the invitation to the party."<br/>
<br/>
"I'm glad," you say. <br/>
<br/>
He ignores your ambiguous remark and changes into your mask on the drive out. <br/>
"One down, one to go," he says as you pull up at work. "You thought of anyone you want a copy of yet?"<br/>
<br/>
You suck on your lip. "I don't like the idea of Cameron taking tips from Gordon Black," you muse. "If I got a copy of Black maybe I could wind him up enough he'd realise it's a bad idea. Or," you slowly add, "we could take a copy of Bickelmeir, find out what really happened ... that night."<br/>
<br/>
He shifts uneasily in his seat. "The thought of two Bickelmeirs makes me sick."</span></div></div>


path: 1111112211221122211122
author_id: smitch69
title: Rats in the stores
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sean is still buzzing after being inside Russo's head, dancing and shuffling to the locker room. You give him a shove, "Fucks sake Sean, you're making me look like an idiot!" He turns flipping you the bird moonwalking through the door.<br/>
<br/>
As your changing in the locker room, you remind Sean about the stuff you collected for the next spell. You shudder a little thinking about the night you collected the grave dirt. "We still going to get the rest of the ingredients from the secure storeroom?" He asks.<br/>
<br/>
You nod, "But we still need a distraction some reason for them to open the door."<br/>
<br/>
"I got that sorted," he grins, "made a couple of smoke bombs yesterday. Robert caught me drying them out and wouldn't leave me alone until I let him have one."<br/>
<br/>
"Are they safe?" You ask nervously.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, just some sugar and potassium nitrate. Robert loved it, the little shit set it off in his room and smoked himself out. Good job the rest of the family was out, but I think you've got a little pyromaniac in the making there!" He sniggers. He shows you one of the bombs, its really small. "Only enough to make a little smoke, not enough to set off any alarms hopefully."<br/>
<br/>
Andy is out for the day so its just a case of working through the list he's left for you. Mainly clearing up the workshop and crushing some packing boxes in the huge mechanical monster at the back of the parking lot. It didn't take long to finish, and you walk to the hanger to check the storerooms.  "You still got that old pamphlet?" You ask, he pulls it from his back pocket handing it to you. Turning to the fifth section in the book you check the list. "Yup, looks like the ingredients we need."<br/>
<br/>
As you walk in to the hanger Jack looks up from the computer screen, "Andy asked us to check how much space we had left in the racks." You groan.<br/>
<br/>
"He should have asked me to do that!" Jack snaps as he gets to his feet.<br/>
<br/>
"Yeah, but he says your time is more valuable than ours." You smile, he agrees and returns to the computer.<br/>
<br/>
Making your way to the back of the hanger, you see the three doors to the secure storerooms. You tap on the right hand door, "This one."<br/>
<br/>
Sean disappears behind the racks to finds some empty containers, it's not long before he returns with an armful of plastic containers which he then leaves near the stores, "I think this will be enough" He says.<br/>
<br/>
"You got that spare mind-band?" You ask, He pulls one from his pocket and nods. You take a deep breath, "Ready?" He gives you the thumbs up.<br/>
<br/>
Sean climbs onto your shoulders, and checks through the opening at the top of the door. Lighting the fuse on the smoke bomb he drops it through the vent, and then jumps from your shoulders. You catch him lowering him to the ground. It only takes a minute before smoke starts escaping from the bottom of the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Jack! You'd better get over here, I can smell something coming from the storerooms." You shout.<br/>
<br/>
He ambles over and looks surprised as wisps of smoke escape from the bottom of the door. "Stand back boys, I don't like the look of this." From a chain attached to his belt he selects a brass key and turns it in the lock. You watch as Sean pulls the band from his pocket.<br/>
<br/>
As he opens the door smoke billows out into his face. Sean moves quick and slaps the mind-band on Jack's forehead. With a groan he stumbles back crumpling into your arms.<br/>
<br/>
Sean looks between you and Jack. But you growl "Get a fucking move on you moron! I don't know how long he'll be unconcious!"<br/>
<br/>
He grabs a few containers and dives into the clearing smoke, you lay Jack on the ground and wave your arms like a madman trying to clear the smoke which is heading towards the alarm.<br/>
<br/>
Sean re-emerges from the room with full containers, he stacks them out of sight just as the band on Jack appears. He peels it off and slips it into his pocket. Jack groans as you sit him up. "What the hell happened?"<br/>
<br/>
"There was a bit of smoke, coming from the storeroom and when you opened the door you kinda passed out." You say biting your lip. He raises his hand to his forehead. You help him to his feet and he gingerly peers into the storeroom, everything looks normal and there's no sign of any smoke.<br/>
<br/>
He casts a suspicious eye over you both, "You didn't go in there did you?" You look at Sean at shake your heads. "Good." he locks the door again, "Everything looks fine and I can't be bothered to file the reams of paperwork. Nothing happened OK boys?" He points to you and Sean in turn, and you nod. "Damn blackouts, Doc was right about them." He mutters as he returns to the front desk.<br/>
<br/>
With a smile you high-five Sean, "Excellent!"<br/>
<br/>
There's still some time till the end of work so you thumb through the old phamplet you found in reception. Fliping it over you run a thumb over the picture of the old Salopek office in New York, you still can't believe there is some kind of connection between the <i>Libra</i> and Salopek even back in 1946. You suck on you lip wondering why they still hold the ingredients for the spells. Perhaps Jack knows more than he let on originally; you think about his memory-band that Sean has, it might give you some answers to Salopek's history.<br/>
<br/>
Sean taps you on the shoulder, "We need to get this stuff out of here." He points to the containers, "The trouble is Jack's been watching us like an eagle."<br/>
<br/>
Thinking for a moment, you walk back to Jack leaning on the desk. "Got anything for the crusher? We got it all powered up out back."<br/>
<br/>
He looks at you through narrowed eyes, rubbing his thick white beard. "There's some packing boxes towards the back of rack F, make sure you get them all and don't make a mess." He growls.<br/>
<br/>
Sorting through the boxes you hide the containers inside smuggling them past Jack who watches you both suspiciously each time you pass. It only takes a couple of trips before you've got everything into your pickup, and its not long before both of you are making your way back the the clubhouse.</span></div></div>


path: 11111122112211222111222
author_id: smitch69
title: Back to the club house and the next spell.
chapter_content:
<div><div> <span>Sean clears the table in the clubhouse while you check the <i>Libra</i> and set to work crafting a new sigil on the table. When that's done, you and Sean empty the bags of grave dirt on top of it. Sean measures and mixes the ingredients, finally pouring the concoction over the pile of dirt.<br/>
<br/>
You're just checking the <i>Libras</i> and glance up to see Sean holding up a lit match. "NO!" You yell. He looks over and with a yelp drops the match shaking his burnt fingers.<br/>
<br/>
You snatch the matches pushing him hard. "What was that for?" He moans.<br/>
<br/>
"You fucking idiot!" You growl. "You almost screwed up the spell."<br/>
<br/>
"How?" He asks. You show him the book stabbing with a finger at the text. He gasps, "Damn! I missed that. So we need someones hair?"<br/>
<br/>
Sean suggests it should be your hair as the <i>Libra</i> belongs to you. So you sit in a chairs and remove Sean's mask, you resurface with a start as Sean pulls some hair from your head, "Ow!"<br/>
<br/>
"Stop whining! it's only a few hairs." He snorts.<br/>
<br/>
You replace the mask again, and wake to see Sean studying the book. "Are we set to go?" You ask. He nods sprinkling your hair over the dirt.<br/>
<br/>
You throw the matches and he lights one holding it to the pile of dirt.<br/>
<br/>
Whooosh! Your breath is taken away by the heat from the fire, but it dies down almost immediately to the same blue flame you see when making the masks. You both watch the flames and after thirty minutes or so they flicker and die.<br/>
<br/>
Sean asks you if its done. You tell him it needs to be kept alight until it wont light anymore. You light a match and stretch a shaky arm to the mound of dirt, eventually you just throw it and jump backwards but this time there is just a quiet 'pop' and it re-ignites.<br/>
<br/>
It continues to flicker and go out at randomly through the evening. You check the <i>Libras</i> again, and your face drops as you discover it could take days to complete the spell.<br/>
<br/>
"I've got an idea." He says diving out the door. <br/>
<br/>
He returns with what looks like parts of a BBQ; a gas canister, tubing and a burner. He sets it up and turns on the gas, a small flame comes from the burner which he rests next to the burning dirt. It's not long before the dirt goes out and then there's a pop and it re-ignites from the burner. Sean gives you a huge grin.<br/>
<br/>
Throughout the following days, you and Sean take turns to nursemaid the smoldering pile of dirt. As the days pass you notice it starts to melt and change shape. It appears to be elongating, with a definite top and bottom. Appendages bud from the larger mass on Tuesday, and on Wednesday evening you get a call from Sean, 'It won't light any more, and its changed shape again."<br/>
<br/>
You drive to the clubhouse and burst through the door. On the table lays something resembling a human shape with a dusty grey covering. "The book says we need to polish it like masks." He groans.<br/>
<br/>
You dread the thought of having to polish the thing but it's a lot easier than you thought and it's done in a couple of hours. "What now?" You ask.<br/>
<br/>
Sean rests the book on the pile, and it appears to glow releasing the stuck page. He reads the new text several times. The Latin is complicated but he tells you that he thinks the spell creates something called a <i>golem</i>. "And I'm not sure, but I think it says 'A mask gives it life and it becomes the slave of the master.'"<br/>
<br/>
"OK, lets give it a go." You remove Sean's mask struggling to remain conscious. Your head throbs as you hold onto the table supporting yourself.<br/>
<br/>
Tentatively you place Sean's mask on the golem, suddenly waves wash over it changing it into a perfect copy of your friend. Moments later its eyes open lazily, you poke it but it does nothing. You can feel it breathing, but there is no reaction as you slap it around the face a couple of times. You look up at Sean who is pretty creeped out by his brain dead duplicate on the table.<br/>
<br/>
You snap your fingers, "Of course, your mask doesn't have a memory-band attached." You explain to Sean.<br/>
<br/>
You remove Sean's band, and feel genuinely empty as you hold it in your hand. You place it on the forehead of Sean's golem, but it doesn't sink in. "Maybe it needs to go on first?" You say. Sean recites the release spell and takes the mask off the golem which returns to its original stone like form. You place the memory-band on what you believe to be its forehead, only this time it sinks in. Sean replaces the mask and his duplicate returns.<br/>
<br/>
Suddenly it bursts into life, sitting bolt upright grasping the edges of the table. "AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" it screams at the top of its voice. Sean tries to calm it down but it's in a state of panic, but when you tell it to calm down it goes quiet almost immediately.<br/>
<br/>
It stutters nervously as it tries to explain. It tells you that just before it screamed, it felt totally trapped. It could think, it knew who it was but it was unable to move, totally isolated and in total darkness; until it would seem the mask was put on. Sean nods, "It's one of my fears; claustrophobia."<br/>
<br/>
Frowning you look at Sean, "I think we need to fix the band to your mask." He nods and removes the mask and band from the golem as quickly as he can. <br/>
<br/>
It's not complicated to retro-fix the band, just a bit fiddly. You're almost done when you hear a yell, you turn to see Danny Russo sitting up on the table. "Whoa, where the fuck am I? Wait! I was in the pickup, with..." It pauses, eyebrows arched searching its memory, "... Sean Mitchell?" The Danny golem looks down and realises it's wearing nothing. "What kind of sick party is this? Did you drug me?" It lunges at Sean, grabbing him by the collar. "You little creep, I remember you from the parking lot!"<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" It turns and does a double-take between you and your duplicate, "Let him go!" You shout. Immediately it releases Sean holding up both it's hands. You pull a face at its naked form and turn away, Sean throws Danny's clothes at the golem and it quickly pulls them on.<br/>
<br/>
Walking over, you look into its eyes. it looks directly back and then turns away, biting it's lip.<br/>
<br/>
"Who are you?" You demand.<br/>
<br/>
"Danny Russo" He replies.<br/>
<br/>
"Anything else?"<br/>
<br/>
He thinks, looking a little confused. "What do you mean?"<br/>
<br/>
"Can you remember being Sean a couple of minutes ago?"<br/>
<br/>
He looks around, "Sean? No just me." He shrugs.<br/>
<br/>
"So you don't remember screaming your head off laying on the table?" Sean asks.<br/>
<br/>
He looks as Sean with distaste, "I don't have to talk to you creep."<br/>
<br/>
You raise an eyebrow, "What do you mean, we are both the same."<br/>
<br/>
He looks over at you with a slightly annoyed look, "Look, I can tell you're different from him," He nods in Sean's direction, "and something inside me tells me I need to do what you tell me."<br/>
<br/>
You think for a moment and click your fingers, "The hair!"<br/>
<br/>
"Danny?" He looks at you, "Does that mean you need to do everything I ask? Like a slave?" He shrugs again and nods.<br/>
<br/>
"What about me?" Sean asks<br/>
<br/>
"You can go fuck yourself, pervert." It sneers.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey!" You shout, "Treat him nice!"<br/>
<br/>
The golem blinks, and then smiles. He gives Sean a playful punch to the arm, "Sorry bud, no hard feelings. We're cool right?" He grins. Sean nods giving an uneasy smile.<br/>
<br/>
"Danny, get me a soda from the pickup will you?" You ask, he nods and you both watch as he jogs out the door humming to himself. "What do you think?" You ask Sean.<br/>
<br/>
"I dunno, he certainly acts like Danny. Do you think we can trust him?"<br/>
<br/>
"I guess we have to for the moment." With the memory-band attached to Sean's mask you put it on again. When you wake Danny is standing over you with a soda in his hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey Sean! Wow! certainly blew the rest of the guys out the water last night, WE ARE BEER PONG CHAMPIONS, OOOH YEAH!" <br/>
<br/>
"You remember that?" You ask<br/>
<br/>
"Sure, why wouldn't I? We where both there."<br/>
<br/>
You tip your head, "You know I'm not the real Sean don't you?"<br/>
<br/>
"Well, sort of.  I know you look different now but I still know I'm meant to do what you tell me."<br/>
<br/>
You explain to the golem about the masks and stuff, and bite you lip as you tell him that he's not the real Danny Russo.<br/>
<br/>
"So I'm just a copy of Danny?" He says, you nod slowly. "Ok, kinda weird but what the fuck!" He does a little dance an a circle, "I feel like the real thing!"<br/>
<br/>
"For all intents and purposes I guess you're just as good as the original" You say to him.<br/>
<br/>
"Better." He grins.<br/>
<br/>
"But you know you can't leave here for the moment, last thing we want is you bumping into the original Danny." You snort, he give you a salute and sits back on the table.<br/>
<br/>
Danny's pre-occupied in his own little world of pent up energy dancing away quite happily. "He's kinda freaking me out." Sean whispers, but as he lifts his hand to the face of the golem it bats it away.<br/>
<br/>
"It's OK, let him remove the mask." You reassure it. Sean tries again, and this time the golem only flinches as Sean mumbles the spell pulling the mask away. Danny's image melts and the golem returns to it's original featureless shape although still clothed in Danny's shorts and vest.</span></div></div>


