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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Return of Marianne Matthias"  Will Justin be enough "back up" for when you see Dwayne? "No, but he'll have to do," you tell Lindsay. To Justin: "Hi, sweetie. Do you go to Westside? Do you know my son? Dane? Dane Matthias?" Justin turns very pale, and darts a glance at Lindsay. "Ignore him," she says. "He's been disgusting ever since he got into her mask." "Oh, don't worry, honey," you retort. "You'll get a boyfriend some day." Justin takes a step back as Lindsay turns a flushed and livid face on you. * * * * * Justin— But is it Justin? That was Grant disguised as Joe who showed up at the basement this morning, so you'd bet this is Joe disguised as Justin. Anyway, Justin doesn't say a lot on the drive out to Dwayne's house. He takes the front seat with Lindsay while you sprawl in the back and give them some necessary cautions. "You better leave the talking to me," you tell them. "Dwayne's a real live wire." How live a wire? Such a live wire that you retreat deep inside Marianne's mind when thinking about him. At least he treats her at least with a certain civility, and she can contemplate him without shitting herself with fear. "He's my nephew," you continue. "Well, Marianne's nephew. Her sister's son." Sister's son, sister's son. It sounds like something the Rohan guys say in The Lord of the Rings. Marianne loved The Lord of the Rings growing up, and not just the movies, though she had the aching hots for the guy who played Eomer. He was such a total Viking hottie! Just like Dane Senior. And one of these days Dane Senior's going to come back, and you and Dane Junior are— "What are you mumbling about?" Lindsay demands. "Who's a Viking hottie?" "Sorry," you reply. "Just leave Dwayne to me. The talking, I mean." "You said that five minutes ago, Will. When do we turn?" You look around, and give some brief directions that will take you north of the interstate, to the decrepit, fly-blown part of town where Dwayne lives. Ten minutes later, you park in front of the cinderblock house with the peeling paint and the weed-infested yard. A blind twitches in the bedroom window. "Let me do the talking," you tell them again as you get out. "You guys are, um, friends of Dane's, and you're driving me around because ... Um ... " Marianne is an enough of a pot head that you hope her story doesn't have to make sense for Dwayne to buy it. "Who does the thing with the mask?" Lindsay asks. Your trio look at each other. You almost forgot the mask in the car. God, this is going to be such a clusterfuck, isn't it? "I'll do it," you say. "He won't let you get close to him." So you've got the mask in your hand as you advance up the cracked sidewalk to the house. The door opens before you can knock at it, and Dwayne, his eyes wide with suspicion, glares at you. "Yeah?" He has the face of a rat: narrow eyes over a thin, pointy nose; mousy brown hair; and face-covering whiskers too short to be a beard but too long to be called "unshaven." "Hi Dwayne, can I come in?" "Who's that with you?" "Who, them? Oh, they're friends of Dane's. Dwayne, sweetheart, I need to go to the market and I need some money—" "You don't need anything, Aunt Marianne. Go home and sleep it off." The door slams in your face. "Dwayne!" You tap at the door. "Dwayne, come on, sweetie. I want to make some velvet cupcakes. You remember my famous velvet cupcakes." You tap at the door, and scratch at it. "I'll make enough for you, but I need some—" You squawk as the door opens and Dwayne yanks you inside. "You don't come down here, Aunt Marianne," he tells you in a very firm but gentle voice. "I've told you before. You just need to go home. I'll get you what you need for your cupcakes and I'll send Ila over with them. Do you need anything from the store?" "Just some party favors." With a beating heart, you hold up the mask. "See what I found? I got some more, and I thought we could have like a masquerade party. Wouldn't that be fun?" "That's awesome. But you need to go home." "Sure. Oh, do you need a paper and pencil, Dwayne, because I do have some more— Or do you want me to text you?" "Don't text me!" Dwayne stalks back into the dim dining nook. You follow. And as he rummages through a busted-down desk you put a hand on his shoulder. When he ignores that, you reach around and put the mask to his face. He folds up and sinks to the floor. For just an instant you blink down at him. Then you scamper back over to the door and let Lindsay and Justin in. "Got it!" you hiss at them. "So we can go?" Justin asks. "No! It's still copying him. It'll be ten minutes or something." "Should we look around for any money?" Lindsay asks. "Wallet, credit cards, debit cards?" "Oh please," you snort. "Dwayne doesn't keep anything in a bank." "What about cash," Justin says. You shrug. So he and Lindsay start searching the joint. They'd make a mess of it except it's already a mess. Discarded newspapers—does Dwayne actually read those?—and loose papers are strewn over the floor and coffee table. Plates with crusted-over food teeter on the ratty love seat. Three garbage sacks stuffed with the wrappers of packaged food sit in the corner. A laundry rack holds some drying pants and shirts and underwear. You congratulate yourself on thinking ahead when you snatch a full set of those. And that possibly proves your undoing. Lindsay suggests searching the bedroom, and you think that's a fine idea because then maybe you can get some of Dwayne's socks and sneakers to go with the disguise. You open the door. "Oh, pardon me," you say without thinking as a figure raises up in the bed. Then you and she scream at each other. It's Ila, Dwayne's girlfriend, a woman with stringy, strawberry-colored hair. She's in her underwear and a halter top, no more. You take turns gasping "Oh my God" at each other. Then someone bumbles up behind you. Ila takes one look at Lindsay and her confusion turns to fear and anger. "The fuck is going on? Marianne?" "Go back to sleep, Ila," you babble. "It's nothing, just me and Dwayne—" But Ila jumps up and busts past you. She busts past Lindsay too, who despite having the vocabulary and disposition of a football player seemingly has none of their blocking and tackling instincts. Ila screams when she sees Dwayne sprawled on the floor. "What did you do? Fuck! Marianne, what did you do You killed him!" "No I didn't!" "You fucking killed him! I'll get the—! Cops! The fucking cops!" "Stop screaming, Ila! He's just—!" Justin tackles her; like bowling pins, they both crash into you. Nails rake at you, and you rake yours at someone else. At least two people are screaming, and one of them might be you, but you're not sure. A blow to the stomach knocks the wind from your lungs and tears into your eyes. When you clear them and sit up, the room is mostly quiet. But the front door is open. Lindsay stands in the doorway, looking out. "The bitch ran off!" she yells. "Is she going to get the police?" "Maybe." You look around. The police inside Dwayne's place would be a bad thing for lots of people and for lots of reason. "Where's Justin?" "Chasing her." "Well, get him back here," you holler, thinking far more quickly than is Marianne's wont. "We'll get Dwayne out of here until the mask is done with him." "How long will that be?" "Long enough! Plus we have to get that brain band into him." You and Lindsay are both futilely trying to drag the limp Dwayne Macaulay to the door when Justin comes pounding back up. With his help, you drag Dwayne down to the car and push him into the back seat. You pile on top of him as the other two jump in. A rear door hangs open as you peel out; in the distance, sirens are already beginning to wail. * * * * * Lindsay manages to keep her head long enough to get you to a shopping center on the other side of Walmart, where she parks in an alley. The mask comes out of Dwayne not long after she's shut off the engine, but then another ten minutes pass while the brain band copies him. You three talk about what to do, and what is likely to happen. There is some chance, you realize, that a neighbor got the license plate of Lindsay's car, and in the hands of either Dwayne or the police that would be very bad for her. As for the real Marianne: Normally you wouldn't worry about Dwayne getting violent with her, but after what happened at his house all bets are off. "Could we put a mask on the real Mrs. Matthias?" Justin asks. "To hide her from, well, everyone?" "What about me?" Lindsay squeals. "After that fuck up back there, I think I need a place to hide!" You can't help smiling: Lindsay's now reasoning as you did when Gordon came after you. And that introduces another possibility: You could trap Dwayne under a mask. Maybe that would neuter him. Or you could just lock him in the elementary school basement until you think of a better plan. * Push Dwayne out of the car and hope for the best * Hide Lindsay and Mrs. Matthias inside some masks * Trap Dwayne inside a mask * Imprison Dwayne and impersonate him * To continue: "A Double Trap for Dwayne Macaulay" |
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