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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Jumping Jack"  Number Five grunts with the strain, then slowly lets Jack Li's unconscious body slide to the floor; he pulls Jack's backpack off, hurls it to one side, and shifts the body onto its back, leaving Jack to stare, with a frozen expression of shock, up at the rafters of the loft. "Go outside and watch practice," you order Number One. "Head off anyone who it looks like might be coming up here, unless it's one of us. Text me when practice is over and the coast is clear." "Will do, boss." She steps over the unconscious Jack Li, and Number Five twists the lock shut after she's gone. "That was an excellent report you sent me last night," you tell him as he squats next to your latest victim. "From what you said, it sounds like Jack's replacement will make an ideal sub-dealer." "You'd know that better than me." He twists around to peer into Jack's face. "He's prettier than Guangli, anyway." "That's because he's nicer. And he knows everyone and everyone likes him. His duplicate will be very useful to us." Number Five looks up. "Have you figured out what all this is about?" "It's about following orders." "Whose orders?" "Mine." Number Five shrugs. "You're the boss, boss." * * * * * "Listen to me," you tell the new doppelganger when its eyes pop open. There's a look of alarm on its face, and its disordered hair also gives it a wild and frightened appearance. "You must believe what I tell you to believe," you continue. "You are who I tell you that you are." This is the standard speech you have evolved to program the doppelgangers on awaking, and the new Number listens intently, eyes locked with yours, even as Number Five helps him onto his feet. "Your name is Number Seven," you continue. "You are not Jack Li. You were never Jack Li. You are nothing and nobody. You were always nothing and always nobody. Now tell me who you are, and what you are." "I am nobody, and I am nothing," the doppelganger says. That look of alarm fades as he speaks, leaving an expression of emptiness and distance behind. "I made you, from ash and fire. What are you?" "I am nothing, made from ash and fire." "You serve me. That is your purpose. What are you, and why are you here?" "I am nothing but ash and fire, made to serve you." "Who are you?" "I am Number Seven." "Good. You are nothing, Number Seven, but I have given you Jack Li's face and form, and his memories and his personality, so that you may serve me. Jack Li is gone, but I have given you everything that was his. His mind, his face, his friends, his family. You will take his place. The world will look at you and see Jack Li, and you will act as Jack Li. Everything he had is now yours, that you may serve me." You smile. "Enjoy the life I've given you." An alertness creeps into the duplicate's face, and his nose seems to quiver as he looks around. He catches sight of a mirror in the far corner of the loft, and after an inquisitive glance at you, he moves over to to peer at his reflection. He shifts on his feet, studying the lines of his body, and lifting the front of his shirt up to run fingertips over the ridge of his stomach muscles. He drops his shirt, and straightens and settles his clothes. He pinches his chin and pushes his face from side to side as he studies it. He catches you looking at him in the mirror, and says, "This is who I am?" "This is is who you're pretending to be. This is who you have replaced." "I like it," he says. He pulls a comb from his back pocket and resettles and reorders his hair, patting it into place. He settles back on his heel, and tries out a smile. It's a little tentative at first, then fully relaxes. "Though I guess I should say Jack Li liked it. Yeah," he says. "This works for me." "We're going to make it work for all of us." "Doing what?" He is still absorbed with admiring himself in the mirror, but he must have caught sight of your expression, for he turns with a slightly guilty look. "Sorry." "That's okay. There's just some things we need to explain to you. I told you, you are Number Seven. That is Number Five over there by the door. I'm Number Two. I'm in charge." "Wouldn't that make you Number One?" he cheekily asks. "I want to talk to Number Seven, not Jack," you chide him. His expression doesn't go slack, but it does lose all its animation. "Chelsea Cooper is Number One, but I'm in charge. Steve Patterson is Number Three. Kelsey Blankenship is Number Four. Will Prescott is Number Six. They are the same kind of thing as you, fire and ash, made by me to replace the originals." Number Five has been watching Number Seven, but he now shifts his attention to you. "There's a Number Six now? When did this happen?" "It doesn't matter. But as of this morning Will Prescott is Number Six. When you're not alone with him, be in character with him, just like you were at his locker yesterday. The same goes for you, Number Seven. When you're with us, the other Numbers, don't be in character. It's not professional," you add, somewhat to your own mystification. "But when anyone else is around, or you think someone else might be watching or listening, be your original. You absolutely cannot be caught out." "As you say, boss." He pats his hair. "We are the first seven. We will make more of us, duplicating and replacing others in the school. I will ask you for ideas, but I will make the decisions. When I ask you for an idea, it will be for a specific purpose. Like yesterday, I told the others I wanted to replace someone popular, someone with a lot of friends and social contacts, and asked for the best names they could come up with. The told me Catherine Muskov, Andrea Varnsworth, Laurent Delacroix, and Jelena Petrovic. But I'm the one who decided on Jack." "Thanks. Most of those suggestions are pretty good, by the way, but you'd have got a bum steer in Andrea. People think she's popular because she's hot. But her 'friend zone' is actually pretty small." "The boss didn't ask you," Number Five says. Number Seven twitches an inquisitive eyebrow at you. "Number Seven understood me," you tell Number Five. "He knew I wanted to hear what he thought." You cock your head, and ignore the buzzing inside Jack's backpack. "Jack was very good at reading people. That too will be useful to us. Who would you have recommended, given those instructions?" "Someone popular with a lot of social contacts, you mean? What kind of contacts? Band people, theater people? It makes a difference." "Just answer the question I set them." "In that case." His gaze briefly goes distant. "Marc Garner." You glance a Number Five, but he is impassive as ever behind his shades. "I'm glad we picked Jack," you tell Number Seven. "So am I," he says. "Though I'd probably have had fun being Marc or Catherine." "Do you have any orders for us now?" Number Five asks. "Not until practice is over and we can meet with the others. Until then, handle any social media you have to," you tell them as you take Kim's phone from your pocket. "In character, remember. And if that was anyone asking about Jack's meeting with Chelsea," you tell Number Seven as he squats beside Jack's pack to take out his phone, "tell them you told her you'd think about it." "Is the offer real?" "No. But there will be another one." The three of you settle in silently to work on your phones, paying no more attention to each other than to the sound of basketball practice in the gym below. * * * * * Practice ends at a little before five, but Number One texts to say that there are still too many people on the bleachers and the mezzanine for you and the others to chance being seen coming down. You tell her to catch Gordon as he's coming out from the changing room, and convince him to go off and wait for her elsewhere. Will try, boss, she promises. In the event, it is nearly a quarter after five before you get the all clear, by which time it makes just as much sense to have the meeting in the loft. You text the others and tell them all to come up. You make the introductions, both by number and by name once everyone is present: Number One, Chelsea Cooper. Number Two, yourself, Kim Walsh. Number Three, Steve Patterson. Number Four, Kelsey Blankenship. Number Five, David Kirkham. Number Six, Will Prescott. Number Seven, Jack Li. None of them react, except Number One, whose eyes can't stop shining with amusement, and Number Six, who darts his eyes from one face to the other with a slightly disbelieving expression. "This is our secret student council," you tell the gathering. "We will be adding more, but we are the ones who will be running things. Number One, you head the cheerleader squad and are in charge of school spirit. Your job is to set the tone for what is and is not popular in school. You will advise us on who and what we should make popular or unpopular, and will use your own influence directly on the job." Number One grins to herself. "Numbers Four and Seven, you will follow Number One's lead once it's been established, but you will also set an agenda among your own groups, which I will give. You will also gather and relay news to Number One and to each other, as will I. "Numbers Three and Five, you are enforcement. Anyone who needs to be physically hurt, you will do the hurting. In addition, Number Three will control access to the loft and use it as a carrot to get people to comply with us. Number Five will be in charge of developing an improved narcotics operation for the school. "Number Six will passively listen to feedback and reaction to our operations." "Those are your general orders. Now I've got some specific instructions for each of you." Next: "A Day Like Any Other" |
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