This choice: Trust this is the real Joe • Go Back...Chapter #38Bargaining with a Devil by: Seuzz   The thing with the globe of light might be a trick, so you are cautious. "Where have you been?"
"A couple of places, technically," says the thing that looks like Joe. "Where you and Blackwell have been taking me, but also out in that mausoleum. That's where I just woke up. I know he turned me into a golem, like he did with Cindy and Lucy." He makes a face. "He must've put the mask on me as some kind of joke."
"So you're-- But aren't you under his control?" Your head is spinning. Who or what are you talking to?
"I feel a tug when he talks, but I can resist it. It seemed safest to play along until I could talk with you. Here, you did something to the mask. Take it off me and see if you can figure out what's going on."
You comply, and Joe turns into a stone version of himself--which confirms his deduction, that Frank put the mask onto the golemized original. You look at the mask: the interior is blank. You'd grunt if you had lungs and a larynx, but you're a golem too, so you have content yourself with an intellectual "Ah!" It's the blank layer resulting from your putting the varnish into the mask last night. Somehow, Frank got it switched over to that layer when he put it on the golemized Joe; or it just naturally reset itself to that layer after he took the mask off you. Though why that should make a difference--
You put it back onto Joe. "Well?" he asks.
"Hang on." You run your hand across his brow, and his visage changes.
"Uhn," he grunts and grits his teeth. "Whatever you did, undo it. I'm about to call Frank down here." Quickly you comply, and a look of relief passes over his face. "Much better. So, what's the verdict?"
You quickly explain what you found--and as he "remembers" your experiments with the varnish, it doesn't take long. "Don't ask me how," you finish, "but it looks like the blank layer, when it's active, restores you. Sort of."
He sits down and leans back, then quickly sits up straight again when he finds himself reclining against the statuesque Lucy Vredenburg. "So it's acting like a blank mask when that layer is, uh, activated." He pulls at his lip. "Let's see. A blank mask has to 'open' a person up in order to copy them--"
A little light goes off in your head. "So it opens the golem shell around you. But when it tries to copy the shell that it has swallowed--"
"It gets stuck in a loop because there's nothing to copy!" he concludes triumphantly. "And with the shell gone, here I am!" He glances back at Lucy. "Well, at least we know how we can restore the girls, at least until we can crack that golem stuff off them permanently."
"First things first. What's Frank up to?"
"Beats me. He's not Frank anymore. What would Blackwell be up to?"
"Last thing he said was, he wants to take me apart, figure out what makes me tick."
"That'll just be for a start," Joe mutters. "After that--" He shivers. "I wish you'd give me my clothes. You don't need them, and it's cold down here."
"I thought about calling your dad," you say as you disrobe, "but he won't know who to trust."
"True, dat," Joe says as he pulls on his old shirt. "It's up to us. But then," he laughs without bitterness. "It always is. That's Dad's style."
You spend a few more hours talking quietly and trying to ignore the sounds of the gwarcheidwad prowling upstairs; luckily, it seems to not have any interest in the inhabitants of the basement, for you doubt there's a seal on the basement door. Eventually, Joe falls into a fitful slumber, and you "fast-forward" yourself into the morning.
* * * * *
"Up and at 'em, Joe," Frank calls shortly after the light of dawn has begun to filter through the narrow window high in the wall. "Here, put this thing onto Lucy there." He tosses a mask down to Joe.
"I'm just a golem," he says peevishly. "I can't do magic."
"If you can get a bra off a girl you can put a mask onto a statue," Frank retorts. "Do it."
Joe grumbles and puts the mask to Lucy, and to your surprise another copy of Frank Durras appears. He glances around shiftily, and gets a dark expression as he looks up at his original.
"You're lookin' good there, fella," Frank says. He hooks a thumb toward the door. "Get up there and dress out for school."
"You made another mask of yourself?" Joe says. "One of you is more than enough."
"It's the one Blackwell made. I decided I could use it." He doesn't shift as his double tries to squeeze past him. "You'll take it to school. I got business here."
"Whatever you say, Captain O my Captain," Joe says sarcastically, and makes a two-fingered salute.
"Cut the attitude, Joe. You picked up a lot of bad habits yesterday, and they end now." Joe's face shifts, but you're standing close enough to see that the mischievous gleam hasn't entirely disappeared. "Call me if Straussler shows up." Joe nods, and joins his brother's doppelganger upstairs.
"And what've you got planned for me," you rumble at him.
"Put Lucy's face on," he says. "I've got a robe up here you can wear." He disappears out the door.
Grimly you don the college girl's face, and have to fight off the wave of despondency that washes over you; as you mount the stairs to the library you feel very lonely and vulnerable. Only the sight of Joe--who when his brother's back is turned shoots you a quick wink--lifts your spirits even a trifle.
After the other two are gone Frank sits at Blackwell's old desk and draws his long legs up so he can clasp his knees. "I had to send out a fake to school because I can't leave you here alone," he says. "In fact, I'm surprised you're still here. You could've torn down that door down without much trouble, I'd bet.
"It didn't seem worth it."
"More likely you guessed we'd be having this conversation. We have to come to an understanding."
"And what's a deal with you worth?"
"It depends on what I'm offering. I need to put you someplace I can keep an eye on you, and where you can't escape." He reaches into a little tray in the corner of the desk and extracts a long carpenter nail. "All it takes is a mask and a nail, and you will be set for life. The only question is, what kind of life will it be?"
"And how long will it last, even if it's a good one?" you sneer back. You can't keep the tremble from your voice.
"It could be short and brutal," he shrugs. "Or short and pleasant. It could be long and brutal. Or it could long and pleasant. It depends on how you conduct yourself while I do my research. You make trouble--" He jabs a finger at you. "Even once, and I'll make your life so miserable you'll be begging to be put down. You help me, you go above and beyond what I ask, and when I'm done I'll put you someplace where you'll be set for life. Someone young, beautiful, rich--"
"I don't believe you," you blurt out.
"You don't have to. It's a gamble. But if you want my advice, you'll play not to lose, and go in hopes that you actually win."
You lick your lips. "So what do you have in mind?"
"Prescott!" he calls sharply, and you jump. Why is he yelling at you when you're right here? But the answer comes when your own replacement appears in the archway. He is holding the end of a leash, on the other end of which is a large, scraggly looking dog. It skitters around and twists; plainly, it hates the house and wants to be out of it.
"This is an old mutt that skulks around the house," Frank says. "Not too hard to catch last night." He sucks in his cheeks. "You don't cooperate, and I trap you inside a mask of it. Stake you to the yard. And when I'm done, you get put down."
You swallow hard. "And if I ... cooperate?"
"You go back to being yourself. You're really not popular, you know. Not at school, right? And how's your dad treating you these days, Prescott?" Your twin makes an ugly face. Frank clucks his tongue. "That's too bad. But if you promise really hard to be good, and are good, there's a third alternative."
"You mean I get to be Lucy? Cindy?"
He shakes his head. "They're too independent. I can't risk you running off. Will Prescott hasn't any money, so he'd be safe. But if you promise to be good--" He cocks a glance back at the golem. "Can you get your brother out here this afternoon?"
Prescott looks puzzled for a moment, and then his face breaks out in a grin. "Oh, that'd be wicked!"
You feel yourself blanch, and your fear and anger aren't relieved by the expression on Frank's face. "A middle-school student, like your brother, can't run away. And he'd have his older brother to keep an eye on him, make sure he behaves himself. But it'd be nicer than being that older brother."
You'd be no good to anyone--certainly not to Joe--trapped as the dog. You shudder to think of what it would be like to go back to your old life. But you can't victimize your own brother.
Unless it's only for a little while, and in order to make promises that would win Frank's temporary confidence.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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