Chapter #16The Return of Will Prescott by: Seuzz   This is either a chance to resume your old life, or a chance to spy on Blackwell from an unexpected hidey-hole; either seems preferable to going back to Cuthbert. So you fish the keys out of Prescott's pocket, unlock the door to the basement, and hide Blackwell's golem behind the detritus after stripping it of its clothes.
The fact that you have this hiding place is a great serendipity. It's the basement of an old, abandoned elementary school, one wing of which has been converted into a recreation center. A few years ago you'd jimmied your way into the basement and turned it into something like a clubhouse for you and your friends, and had even gone so far as to hang a padlock of your own on the door. You are quietly astonished to find that the basement is abandoned to the extent that, though you've not been back to it in several months, your padlock still hangs on the door.
As for Shabbleman's stuff: You hide his mask and clothes in an old backpack he has stashed under a seat, then drop his car off in a downtown parking garage. You fully expect it will be impounded and towed within a day or two, but that will be a safer place to deposit it than by leaving it by the side of the road; and you might have need of it at some point. You then catch a cab home.
Your parents quiz you closely about Shabbleman, and you shrug them off by telling them it was kind of a boring conversation. "You don't know any drug dens, do you," your dad asks to your surprise. "No? Then you probably don't know anything that would interest him." Maybe your dad wasn't as taken in by the "I'm going to college" schtick as you'd thought he'd be.
* * * * *
School the next day is miserable; you seem to have grown even more unpopular while your golem was pretending to be you. Even Caleb and Keith are avoiding you, and you find what refuge you can in the company of Carson Ioeger, Paul Davis, and Jenny Ashton.
"You need a new look," Jenny suggests as you sit on the grass out front during lunch.
"He looks like he always has," Carson retorts. "Like a scarecrow left out in the rain."
"I mean, if he gets a new look, maybe it will shake people into treating him differently."
"Sure," Paul chimes in. His tone turns puckish. "Eyeliner. Blacken the hair. Black lip gloss and white pancake makeup. Go totally Crow."
"The opposite look," Jenny says through gritted teeth.
"Checkerboard suit," teases Carson. "Big bow tie. A straw hat at a jaunty angle."
"Ignore them," Jenny tells you.
"Were they talking," you ask with a smile.
"Seriously, I can't figure it out," Carson says. "You're the same dipshit you were at the start of summer. I don't see a change."
"It started up about the time you started paying off those bullies, I think," Jenny says. "I remember Yumi mentioning it, how she wanted to vomit every time she looked at you after you paid off Lynch. What were you thinking when you decided to do that?"
"What were you thinking when you decided to tell me Yumi wants to vomit when she looks at me?"
"Alright, touché, but it's true. And I still want to know why you paid them off."
You shrug. "I'd just gotten a sweet job and was bragging about the money. When I did it, it just seemed like an easy out."
"How much money were you making?" Carson asks. You tell him, and he slaps himself in the face, he's so amazed. "Jesus! I'd eat Lynch's shit every day for lunch if I was raking in that kind of cash."
"Yeah, well, I got fired."
"Oh, fuck! What happened?"
"I think I touched something I wasn't supposed to." You briefly describe your "cataloging" job, and what an eccentric Blackwell is. "I shoulda known I couldn't keep it for long, not working for a guy like that."
"So he needs a new workstudy guy, huh," Carson says hungrily. "Where's he live?"
You make a face and don't answer.
* * * * *
The rest of the day isn't so bad, and the late afternoon is positively delightful, as Umeko stops by to borrow some sheet music. "Hi, Umeko," your brother says dreamily as she steps from the car.
"Hi, Umeko," you simper in imitation. He pushes you, and you hurl the basketball at his face. You're soon tearing at each other's clothes. But you stop when you realize she is watching you both with bemusement.
"I was never turned on by having guys fight over me," she says. You and Robert shift a little, and let go of each other. But a gleam comes into her eyes. "But watching you two fight over me? Yeah, that makes me excited." She laughs. "So go back at it." But you're both too abashed to do anything until she goes into the house. And then you really start gouging at each other.
* * * * *
And then, a little after eight, your phone rings. Blackwell is on the other end.
"Come out to the house, Will," he says. "Give your parents an excuse to go into town. You will be back home within an hour, so it need not be an elaborate excuse." He waits for no reply, and just hangs up.
Well, you're supposed to be his slave, so you obey.
He lets you into the villa without any kind of greeting and simply motions you to follow him upstairs. Shabbleman is there, in the bedroom. He is naked.
"This is your predecessor, Mr. William Prescott," Blackwell says. "He was insufficiently diligent in his studies, and failed to carry out my very clear instructions. He paid an awful price for his carelessness." Before Shabbleman can reply, Blackwell pulls the mask from your face.
The world again briefly turns white, but then it comes back again. But now all the color is gone: it's an old black-and-white movie, though one a lot crisper and brighter than the old Hollywood movies on cable TV. Still, you can watch and listen, and you know that you can move. But you keep very still.
"Here," Blackwell says, extending the mask to Shabbleman. "You will take his visage and his clothes and you will take his place. He works for me two hours every day, after school. That is the cover you will maintain."
"Why can't I just stay and work here, like I did this afternoon?" Shabbleman demands.
"For reasons that seem good to me and which I don't have to share with you," Blackwell snaps. The other glowers, but helps the magician divest you of your clothes.
You have no breath to hold, and no heart to beat hard at your chest, but you feel suspense after Blackwell leaves, when Shabbleman dons your mask. He regards his new body with distaste and grimaces over his wardrobe. But you can tell he is also absorbed in getting to know you, because his face turns thoughtful as he dresses. And then, just as he is drawing on your jacket, he pauses.
His eyes narrow and slide over toward you. Apparently he has stumbled over the mask's memories of meeting "Will Shabbleman," and the peculiar events that came next.
Slowly he draws up to you and peers at you closely. Gingerly, he pokes you. He waves his hand in front of your face. He glares deeply into what would be your eyes. You remain utterly motionless.
He licks his lips and looks around nervously. "Son of a bitch," he mutters. "What the fuck is that fat old cocksucker up to?" And then he jumps as the door opens and Blackwell steps in.
"Ah, good, you're dressed," the magician says. "I was afraid you were ... entertaining yourself up here."
"I don't even want to touch it," he sneers. "Just getting a feel for the new me." He shakes his hair back, and you catch a malicious glance in your direction.
"Well, come along then," says Blackstone. Your replacement follows him out.
It appears, luckily, that Shabbleman is so distrustful of Blackwell that he is not going to mention what he has "remembered" through your mask. But is also clearly suspicious of the golem—you—up in the bedroom, and he now knows all about your disposition of his own replacement. If he does tell Blackwell anything—
Golems, you discover, can't shudder.
Evening deepens into night. You hear Blackwell coming back upstairs, and you hear his door shut. The clock chimes midnight. You unstiffen and take a few tentative steps about the room, making far less noise than you'd feared you might. Should you explore? Even if you didn't have Blackwell's earlier reminder, you know all too well what happened the last time you ventured into the house proper after hours.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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