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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Stuck on Each Other"  [Text by Nostrum] You’re still unsure how Natalie acted so fast. Oh, you know what drove her—being right there, close to Gillian, close to Braydon, unseen and unknown. And maybe it doesn't matter, maybe it was just luck in getting Braydon alone and popping a mask onto him. Yet, you’re bothered by her recklessness. You have a magic book that can create things that copy people so you can ... wear ... them. And things that copy their minds. And ... whatever that next spell does. It’s creepy. But then again, occultism is creepy. And Braydon Delp thrives on that. What if some of the stuff he's into also works, the way the stuff you found works? You don't like the idea of Natalie being close to him, even if she's wearing your face. What if he hexes her? And as she's just shown, she can be reckless. If she puts on a mask of him, she could cause some real chaos, with doubles and doppelgangers popping up everyplace. If Braydon gets a hint about what's going on ... and if he guesses what's really going on ... ? Well, what would happen if he traced it all back to you and Natalie, and got hold of the book? No, even before Natalie says anything, you've decided. If you're going to do anything with this mask she's made, it will be you doing it. "I'll use it," you announce. "What? The mask? Will!" she exclaims, which is strange because it's your voice she's speaking with. "I should—! I know Gilly! I know the best way of using it!" "I think I can do you one better. Meet me tomorrow and I’ll explain." You close the line before she can argue. U tease! she texts a minute later. You ignore it, though, and go digging for that little box she keeps under her bed. — You study the fully polished, sealed and equipped mask with rapt interest as Natalie—still under your visage—questions you. "Alright. Finally. What’s the plan?" It's after school, and the dark, dank, musty, junky, oily elementary school basement is a poor place to show off what you wore at Eastman (your second day there, pretending to be Natalie). It's a nifty little outfit assembled by Mandy for you: a trendy blouse which you tied up to a knot up your sternum, coupled with some denim overalls that are a bit too tight for your hips but which leave your loins visible, and a beret that she said would "accent your artistic appeal." It certainly seemed to catch Natalie's attention when she picked you up. You wonder if she's jealous. Certainly she's got less to work with than you. About the best she can do with your wardrobe is what she's done: wear your cap backwards. Which looks dumb, and is another reason to shuffle off her mask and clothes and get back into your own. And you'd like to leave her the task of dealing with the ever-spreading rumor (which Genevieve keeps cranking up) that Natalie Dawkins is dating a Westside senior. And it's only bound to get worse, now that Alyssa has got it firmly in her head that it's true. But as for the plan: "You know about Morgana Hollis, right?" At first Will seems to draw a blank, but then he smirks."Yeah. Your school’s resident witch." "In a way. 'Cept I guess Braydon would argue, because I've heard he's not that chill with her ideas about the occult." "I've heard that too." Will's smirk deepens. You give him a look. "So what do you think would happen if Braydon had a little thing"—you accent the word so she'll know what kind of a "thing" you mean—"with Morgana?" "Oo! Gilly wouldn't like that!" "Well, obviously. Braydon's her 'hubby', right?" "That’s so wicked!" He titters, but stops abruptly. "But hold on. If Braydon doesn't like Morgana—?" "He doesn't not like her. I don't think. He just thinks she's a joke." "But still, why—?" "That's what'd make it extra bad, if he did it with someone he thinks is a joke." Will still looks dubious, and in truth it does sound a little ill-thought-out when said aloud. "We’ll think about how to handle it," you say. "First, we need some clothes to go with the mask." "Oh, that's easy. Hot Topic'll have all you need." "And his jewelry. He's gonna have to have his silver. Thing is," you muse, "I don't know where to get that." "You will if you look in there." Will points to the mask. Well, dur! you chide yourself. Of course, any occult secrets he's got will be in there. And as you move into the corner that has turned into your changing-out space, you find yourself musing: Yes. All his occult secrets. And if we can put his secrets together with ours ... You don't dwell on it, though, but lay yourself out on the ground and grasp your face ... — You wake up with a nasty headache to find yourself in a dark, damp, smelly place. Where the fuck am I? At least you can see at a glance where you aren’t, in one of the old portables in back of the school, which is the last place you remember being. It's too dark, for a start, and there's too much junk piled up around you. You lever yourself upright for a better look-around, and that's when you discover you're naked. And it's not just your clothes. Your ring’s gone, and so are your chains. You shut your eyes, trying to figure out what happened. You were in the language wing after lunch with Gillian, munching on each other's lips before breaking off to go to class—and you were thinking how you wanted to get deeper in when with a start you noticed Will Prescott leaning close. Will Prescott. The name and face set off an alarm in your head for some reason. He was off with Gillian last weekend while you were busy with some other stuff, and you got some ribbing from Christian Knouse about it—"Prescott's trying to steal your girl"—but that's not what bothers you now (and it didn't bother you then). No, there's something else ... Well, he said he wanted to talk to you after school about something—And was it about Gillian? Maybe that weekend thing bothered you more than you realized—and asked you to meet him at the old abandoned portables back of the school. He was evasive, even edgy, and he seemed very nervous when you caught up to him like he asked. He'd jimmied open one of the portables already, and he invited you to go in ahead of him. You had just stepped over the threshold when you felt him reach around from behind and put his hands over your face ... You frown. That seems to be all. Except for the nasty sense that you won't like what you learn when you find out what Prescott wanted to talk to you about. You get to your feet and shuffle out of the little corner you woke inside. You find you're in a very large, basement-like space, stacked deep with old school desks, cabinets, book shelves, cast off equipment, and other junk. It give you a strong sense of deja vu. A movement catches your eye, and you realize that what you took at first to be a broken, cast-off mannequin is actually a person. Worse— It's Will Prescott! His head is bent over an open book, the sight of which for some reason gives you a stab of fear and horror. You must have made a noise, because Prescott looks up at you. "The fuck?" you murmur. "Will," he says. Then, in a leap, you are at him, grabbing at his shirt, even though he is somehow loathsome to the touch. "The fuck is the big idea?" you snarl at him. "Will!" Prescott slaps you across the face. The world seems to go upside down and then— — "Sorry about that," you mutter after everything has stopped spinning and come to rest in a way that makes sense again. You fight the urge to pull your own head off your shoulders so you can reset it there more firmly. "God!" Will gasps. "That was insane! For a moment I almost thought you were the real guy!" So was I, you don't tell him. You shake out your limbs, and give him a direct look. "Okay, so—" "No, first you gotta tell me," Will says. "Is Braydon hexing Gilly or what?" You blink. Almost you laugh, for you're sure she must be joking. But then you see she isn't. Still, you're about brush her question off when you suddenly think, Am I? Is he? You hold up your right hand, examining the index finger, and the place where that silver ring should be. There's two answers to her question. The first is I kind of hope so, and the second is, Probably not. You know Natalie won't like either answer, so you stammer, "Well, I can't say." "Oh, come on!" Will says. "You should know! You've got his mind, right? Is he or isn't he?" You study your hand, which is small and pale and soft. The ring Braydon made, it's supposed to amplify the wearer's own ability to influence others, and so it should amplify his ability to keep Gillian close and ... mesmerized. But either it doesn't work, or— You bite your lip. Either it doesn't work or I have almost zero personal charisma for it to work with. "Will?" "I don't think so," you answer. "I mean, he's got a ring that he thinks should influence people—" "Then why didn’t you say so!?" You're about to answer when your eye falls onto the book, open in Will's lap. You feel a twinge of the jealousy Braydon would feel. And you feel a twinge of your own as you think on the "magic" he has tried to master. But Natalie wants an answer. There's one she won't like, and there's one that'll keep her quiet, at least, while giving you a chance to extend your research. Next: "The Warlock and the Maiden" |
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