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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Unhappy Warlock"  "Okay, how about Lucy Vredenburg's mother?" you blurt out, thinking fast. Blackwell blinks. "I beg your pardon?" "Lucy Vredenburg's mother. Betty. She—" "What on earth?" Blackwell frowns. "She's the mother of one of my classmates," you explain. "Another one I'd like to get back at. And she's Lucy's mother. Lucy comes out here, she works for you, so she'd be a way of—" "Under no circumstances, Mr. Prescott!" Blackwell thunders, and his face blackens. "I am not— I have not undertaken your education— What is possessing you? I need you out here at least six hours a day, spending the night— These are arrangements that can easily be made if you are impersonating the correct classmate! But as the— the parent of a classmate—!" "Betty's an adult like Kelly!" you retort, and lightly touch your breast. "She can come out here any time, pretending to run errands, so I can switch, like when I switch when I come out after school. And I'd have a more flexible schedule!" you continue as you warm to the idea. "As Yumi, or whoever, I can only come out in the afternoon to switch. As someone's mother, I could sleep here, work here in the mornings, then go home as her in the afternoons, if that would work better. Or work here in the afternoons and go home in the mornings. And Lucy—" "No, I will not hear of it," Blackwell says, and raises his hand. "I will give you one more day and night as this— this woman," he says with faint distaste, "in order to wind up your affairs and arrange for her return to this mortal circle. But then you must return to Miss— to your earlier impersonation. Unless you can propose an alternate impersonation. One," he concludes very archly, "that is not certifiably insane!" * * * * * So you're in a bad mood that evening, not least because you have to tell Chelsea that the tutorial sessions you had arranged for her fell through. (There's no point in pushing your doppelganger on her when her mother will be returning with no memories of arranging the sessions.) Rob wants to get cozy with you after going to bed, but it's no lie when you push him off with the excuse that you've got a headache. The next morning you are mulishly plotting out how to make the transfer back to Yumi's mask when you get an unexpected text from Blackwell, asking you to come meet him at his office at ten-thirty. Almost you give him the same excuse you gave Rob last night—a migraine—but bite your tongue and agree to come. The result is a very pleasant surprise. "I spent the night turning over in my mind the suggestion you made to me," he informs you in a dry yet plummy tone once you are seated in his office with the door closed. His university office, like his house, is stacked deep with books. But the desk and the carpet are worn and shabby, and the sunlight that pours through the Venetian brightens the place considerably. Except for an impression of shadows that hang like cobwebs off the bookshelves, the place feels normal. "And I have decide that your proposal has ... more merit ... than was immediately obvious at the time you made it." "Well, isn't that just too sweet of you," you exclaim, for Kelly Cooper's personality is still riding hard upon you. "Sorry," you add when Blackwell's mouth sags into a frown. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?" "Your animadversions on the flexibility of scheduling that you achieve in the guise of, er—" He indicates you with a loose gesture.. "Flexibility in your schedule would nicely complement flexibility in mine." He tugs at his lip. "So, if you wish to continue in the guise of, erm—" "I'd still like to change places with Betty Vredenburg," you say, for you're thinking of how well that would fit in your desire to spy on Lucy. "I'm afraid not, Will," Blackwell crisply declares, and his visage darkens again. "But through Lucy—" "That is why I must veto the suggestion. Lucy would hardly be pleased to discover that I had made a, um, substitution in regard to her mother—" "So don't tell her!" "—and she would hardly be more pleased to learn that her mother had also become involved in my work." "So don't tell her!" you repeat. Blackwell smiles tightly. "Then of what use would it be that you had Lucy as a, ah, 'connection' to me, if we must keep secret that you and I are connected in any way through the personage of Lucy's mother? No, I'm sorry, the suggestion is most impracticable." He shuts his mouth with a snap, and his smile is like a steel ribbon. "Alright," you sigh. "But there might be some other, um, people I might want to change places with." "Such as?" "I don't know yet. There's a lot of people I want to get even with, and after I've had some fun with Chelsea—" "I understand. We shall have to see." "Could I make up another mask? To have on hand in case I—" "In case you impulsively wish to make an exchange?" Blackwell mulls this. "Yes, you have my permission to cast a new mask." With that, he dismisses you. * * * * * But you don't wait to prepare for another move, for you are still feeling inquisitive and even more than a bit rebellious. From the university you drive out first to your house to pick up The Book of Miriam, and then make a dash for the villa. There, you replace the book on the bookshelf, quickly cast a new mask, fetch the mens you had started to make, and mix up some ludius paste. Then, after releasing the guardian (which you had caged on entering; Blackwell had shown you how before leaving for the weekend), you go home in time to resume your household chores. The week that follows is less revolutionary than it had promised to be. Only on Saturday does Blackwell summon you out in mid-morning to the villa, to switch into Jared's face for the afternoon; then (to your surprise) he sends you back home as Mrs. Cooper for the evening and night. Every other day, you make the switch late in the afternoon, under cover of making a trip to the grocery store. The only real change—and it's a disappointment—is that you don't have the chance to directly persecute Chelsea, but must leave it to the fake Mrs. Cooper to do your dirty work for you. The control you exercise over the fake Mrs. Cooper is another mark of your growing alienation from the professor. When you were Yumi, the practice was for you to hang her mask onto his golem and send it to school. This, however, put the fake girl under his control, not yours, and you are loathe to do the same with Mrs. Cooper. That is why you prepared a ludius paste which, when fired into the mask with a bit of your hair, puts the pedisequos under your control no matter who controls the golem it is set upon. You don't tell Blackwell what you have done. If he never learns of the deception, so much the better. If he does learn of it, you will have an excuse prepared (that you wanted the flexibility to set the mask on to anything or anyone in an emergency). You also command "Mrs. Cooper" to tell you if the professor (thinking that he controls it) takes it aside for an interrogation. But she never reports that he does. Meanwhile, every night, for three hours after supposedly retiring to your bedroom, you work on the new mask, and have it done by the following Sunday. * * * * * "Well, I wish you had told me this before!" Betty Vredenburg exclaims. She sets her coffee cup down and frowns out the dining room window. It is Monday morning, for you needed the house to yourself to prepare for the next stage in your plan. You invited Betty over, ostensibly to discuss cheerleading matters; and because she didn't seem interested you had to tell her that Chelsea and Cindy were not getting along. That got her out to the house, and you have just spent ten minutes over coffee improvising a story about how you found out from Chelsea about the dissension on the squad. "I told you," you say, "that I only found out about it myself yesterday. So you know it almost as quick as I do. If it makes you feel any better," you continue as Betty sighs, "I gave Chelsea a real stern lecture about not being a bitchy little bossy-boots." Betty looks startled—probably on account of your vocabulary—then goes back to staring out the window. "It can't be easy for Cindy," she says with a distracted air, "not being able to— Well, to follow in her sister's footsteps. I know it isn't, because I've seen and heard enough from her. And I'm sure," she continues as you rise to duck into the kitchen, "that she's taken at least part of her frustrations out on Chelsea." "Well, whatever the explanation," you call back as you open a drawer and touch the prepared mask you'd hidden there, "what are we going to tell them? Because I assume—" "Maybe if Lucy had a talk to her." You pause, your fingertips grasping the mask without lifting it. Your original plan had been to secretly switch places with Mrs. Vredenburg, at least long enough to eyeball Lucy and make a plan for putting some kind of watch upon her. More cautiously, you had also given thought to simply enslaving her with a mask, and ordering her to watch her oldest daughter. Now it occurs to you what should have occurred to you long before: that the quickest way to find out what is up with Lucy is to copy her into a mask and replace her yourself. It would only take a suggestion from you to Betty to get Lucy out here. Next: "Being Betty Vredenburg, Part 1" |
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