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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Rhapsody in Brown"  "His family?" you blurt out. "His family?" you repeat. The suggestion startles and repulses you. But it's so shocking you have to hear more. "Yeah, I was thinking—" Brownie pulls at his nose, and his eyes twinkle and dart. "Security," he says. "The trouble with a Brotherhood is you got all different people who in it, and they need a reason to get together that doesn't look like, you know, they're a cult or anything. But if you got a family, all of them in on it—" He shrugs. "Then you got a central, secure location where no one can spy you out. So I figure it just makes sense to make Brownie's family the core of the Brotherhood. Then then we scoop up some outside people to make it ten." You try to picture someone doing that to your family—turning you and your dad and your mom and your little brother into demon-worshipping cultists, and hiding behind their faces while they do it. A hard shiver runs through you. At the same time— Your eye darts up at Brownie, and for an instant you don't see Sydney there. You see the asshole she seduced last night, who was so happy and eager to be seduced by her. You got back at him by letting Sydney steal his face and body; but you could get back at him further by stealing his entire family. And he would be the instrument you use to take them over and transform them. "Tell me more about his family." Maybe Sydney knows what you're thinking, because she grins at you with Brownie's mouth. * * * * * There's six of them, she tells you; seven if you include Carter Abraham Brown, the oldest son, who has left home and is training to join the Special Forces. First up would be Major Victor Brown, who is stationed at Fort Suffolk, and his wife, Heather, runs the household. And "runs" it is right: everyone jumps when she gives orders. "We call her the Colonel," Brownie tells you in a voice tinged with pride. Also at home: Eric Isaac, who attends Keyserling, where he is pursuing a double-degree in history and mechanical engineering preparatory to enrolling in the Army. Alec Jacob is standing before you. Finally there are the twins, Micah Reuben and Riker Simeon, who are in middle school. "And we'd share them all?" you say when Sydney is done describing the Browns. "One way or another." You hesitate still. Then you realize that you're only second-guessing a decision you've already made. "Let's do it," you tell her. She catches you up under the armpits, and crushes you to herself in a hairy, manly bear hug. * * * * * But there's a serious hump to be got over if you're going to take over the Brown household, and that's getting all the masks ready. Sydney—perhaps under the quasi-military training that Brownie has received—puts you hard at work making as many masks as you can while she runs out to get more supplies. She bears down on you when she's back, pushing you to work harder and faster, the same as she's working hard and fast, but she still has time to check over the masks you polish and the mind-bands you engrave, examining them for flaws and imperfections, and double-checking the book to make sure that you're doing them correctly. And even then she's got time to talk about the plan. "Originally I was thinking we'd be taking it slow, building up the Brotherhood one convert at a time," she says as she bends over one of the metal bands to tap and scrape the runes into it. "Turn ourselves into them, get good and comfortable as them, get them converted inside and out." She sucks in her lower lip. "At least, I was hoping it would work that way." "Work what way?" "Eyes on your work, Prescott. You don't have to look at me to talk or listen. I'm talking about the pedisequoses. Pedisequosae?" You keep your eyes down, but you can imagine her brow furrowing. "Minions," she says. "Fuck, yeah, let's just call 'em that." Guess Brownie must have as hard a time with that word as you do, you reflect with a hidden smile. "We're making brothers, Will. Brothers of Baphomet. But you can't be a brother if you don't believe. And I have to wonder if these things, these minions, can actually believe anything. I mean," she continues, though you hadn't said anything, "they're like robots, aren't they? Magic robots, which means they're not real people. Do you have to be a real person to believe things? I've been worrying." "What happens if they can't believe?" You don't want to ask the question; philosophy or theology or whatever the fuck kind of thing the question is doesn't appeal to you, but you feel like you have to ask it. "What if they're just robots?" "Then they can't be brothers and we can't have a Brotherhood. But what I'm hoping, what I'm gambling on, is that we're real people while we're wearing these masks,, and that while we're being these people then we can be the brothers. We can do the believing." "We can't be five or ten people all at the same time," you point out. "I know that, Will. But I'm hoping we can be each brother for as long as we have to be, in order to get what we need out of them. Then switch to the others to get what we need out of them. If it works out, m—" She presses a crick from her neck.. "Then maybe we can make these things real enough for Baphomet without us having to be in them. What I mean is, if we can get these things to act like brothers, then maybe that'll count as close enough to actually believing, for what we need from them. But I'm pretty sure," she adds, "that we're gonna have to be each one of them for a little while, at least, in order to give them the, you know, feeling of a full conversion or whatever." So does that mean she'll have to be Brownie for a couple of days, or maybe a week, in order to get him properly "converted" into a believing brother, before switching to a new mask to convert that other person? "Like that," she agrees. "Anyway, what I was thinking originally was that we'd each be someone, then after we got them converted we'd grab someone new, switch places with them, and convert them. And so on. But we can't do it that way if we're gonna take over Brownie's family." She stretches again. "None of 'em can even suspect that some of them have been converted. So we have to take them all at once." "All at the same time?" "Well, not like all in one blow. But, like, all of them within a day or two. By tomorrow or Monday night, say. And after that, well, I guess we'd have to take turns moving from one to another, burrowing in and converting them." Well, Sydney knows best how to build a Brotherhood, and Brownie knows best how to deal with his family. So you tell her you're all on board for that. "Great," she says. "So I'll see about getting one or two more today, maybe get the rest of them tomorrow. Get cracking over there, Prescott." * * * * * But even working as quickly as you can—consistent with careful craftsmanship—you only get four complete masks made, which is one short of what you need to completely hijack the Brown family. Sydney's expression is tight and grim—Brownie looks like he doesn't enjoy being stymied—but she says that you can finish up the last one from inside the Brown's house; all you lack is one finished mind band, and you can get that made tonight. So you pack everything up and carry it out to your truck for transport to your base-to-be. "Got a ride with Eric," Sydney tells you when you ask how she got out the elementary school. "I told him I was meeting some of the guys out here, and he gave me a lift on his way up to the college." She slaps you on the thigh. "We'll take you back home, tell 'em you were one of the guys." She guffaws, and you swallow your embarrassment. The Browns live in the southeast part of town, in a residential neighborhood not far from where your dad works. It's a nice part of town, but the house is just off the old highway, where things are cheapish and old and just a little shabby. It's two squat stories on a small lot, painted an ugly green, with an attached garage. Your guide directs you to park in front of the house instead of the driveway. "Looks like Eric's not home," he says. He slams the front door behind him on entering the house and leads you down into a sunken living room. He looks around with a frown; the house is very quiet. "Hello?" he shouts. "Anyone here?" "In your bathroom, hon!" a woman calls back from deep inside the house. Brownie slaps you in the stomach and beckons you to follow him upstairs. The plastic sack containing the masks rustles and rattles in his hand. "Hey," he says as he leans into an open doorway off the upstairs hall. "Scrubbing?" he says. "I thought it was the twerps' turn." Someone inside says something inaudible, and Brownie nods. "Is that where Dad is? What about Eric?" More muttering. "Cool." He grabs you by the back of the neck and hauls you over to shove your face into the bathroom. "This is Will," he says to the woman inside. "We're gonna hang out." Brownie's mom turns around. She's middle-aged but fit, you'd guess, though she looks very disheveled in her sweat pants, t-shirt, and bandanna; she wears rubber gloves and is holding a toilet brush. "Hi Will," she says with a smile. "H—" Brownie shoves you back into the hall and puts his mouth to your ear. "Whaddaya think?" he murmurs. "We got the house to ourselves. I put you in the colonel, and the objective is practically ours." Next: "The Becoming of Heather Brown" |
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