Chapter #42Ursula Takes the Bait by: Seuzz   "You want proof?" you shout to her retreating back. "There's proof." You pull Darcy's mask from your bag and drop it onto the table with a loud clatter.
Ursula glares over her shoulder. "What's that?"
"Oh, whaddaya care?" you reply contemptuously.
She bites at her lip, but takes a few steps back to stare down at it. Her brow furrows. "It's some kind of mask?"
"What do you care," you repeat, enunciating each word a little more carefully. "Do you want to learn something, or do you already know it all?"
She gives you a dirty look, but casually picks up the mask. "What's supposed to be special about a--" She catches her breath. "There's a face in it," she mutters.
"Oh, you do have eyes. But it's not a face. It's imago."
"A what?"
"Imago. Image, you might translate it, but more like 'form'. The metaphysical whatsits that, for instance, makes one lump of bronze into a bell and another lump of bronze into a statue of a bull." You gesture at it. "In this case, it's the stuff that makes a lump of meat into Darcy Whitehead."
"Darcy Whitehead?" Ursula gasps. She peers down more carefully at the mask. "It does look like Darcy."
You roll your eyes. "Yeah, it does, because we pulled it off her, like a wax impression."
Ursula's lips tighten. "It looks cool, but what does it have to do--"
"With Lemuria and the alignment?" You sigh impatiently. "I told you, we need twenty-one keys. Twenty-one people. But we can't get twenty-one people. We can't even get three, because you--who of all people shouldn't be getting all science-y bullshitty on us--won't even listen. So go ahead. Take off. I only got so much breath." You gesture at the door dismissively.
Ursula sits down in the chair, folds her arms, and sticks out her lower lip. "You said you had proof. So prove it."
You draw the moment out for a few seconds by looking at Frank. He shrugs and looks away. "Okay, last chance," you say. "We need twenty-one people, but we can't get twenty-one people, so we're going to get twenty-one imago. These things. Twenty-one masks. Well, nineteen, because Frank and me make two, and maybe eighteen, if we can count on you. For the others, though, we need substitutes, and for that we can use imago. Basically, we get eighteen or nineteen people, put these masks on them, then when it comes time to open the gate we use those masks as substitutes for the keys. We've done it before, though we didn't have to make so many masks in the past."
"Do these things hurt people," Ursula asks suspiciously.
"No worse than using Silly Putty on the funny papers. Not even as bad. It's like a Xerox machine. Mind you, it can be a little tricky getting the masks onto them. People don't much like it and they don't volunteer."
She is clearly wavering. "Is this, like, more of that Lemurian magic?"
You snicker. "No, these things were invented, if that's the word, in the seventeenth century. Guy called 'La Fer.' Well," you add in a malicious tone, "that's what he was called after he accidentally ripped his own face off with a malformed prototype." Your grin sharpens. "They had to put him in an iron mask because the result drove people mad with horror. But all the bugs have been worked out since then."
Ursula turns very pale. "I'm not sure I--"
"Oh come on. Here, try it on." You push the mask at her, and she pulls back. "These things aren't actually keys. They're masks. Disguises. We're just going to use them as keys because that's the only thing they're good for, as far as we're concerned. But try it on, and you'll see we're not shitting you."
"A disguise?" Her eyes widen.
"Yeah. It's like a magical full-body disguise. You put it on, and you'll turn into that person, like in those movies with those hologram suits. Except it's not an illusion, it's an actual transformation. Perfect down to the tiniest detail. So put it on. You want proof? That'll prove it." You smile warmly. "It's not something we can fake. It has to be real."
She stares at the mask, like it's a tarantula. Her hand edges clumsily toward it, and she pulls back as her fingers touch it. But slowly she puts her hands out again and picks it up, holding it as though it is very heavy. "Turn it around," you gently coax her, and she turns the mask over, and gasps to see Darcy's name floating on the inside. She gives you a very worried glance, and you gesture at her encouragingly. Gingerly, she raises it to her face, and sniffs its inside. Then she pushes it on. Instantly, she slumps in her chair.
You catch her before she can topple to the floor, and Frank leaps to help you. "Is all that true, what you said about the Man in the Iron Mask," he quietly asks. You give him a look and tell him not to be as gullible as Ursula.
Gently you chafe her wrists until her eyes flutter open. "Shhh," you say. "Close your eyes and relax. Let it all come into focus."
Her eyes close, and she breathes deeply. Then her eyes pop open again. "Oh my God!" she exclaims. "Darcy! She's--! She's--!"
"She's what?" you ask excitedly. Is there some juicy gossip you should know?
"She's in here with me!" She frowns. "She-- I know-- I have all of her--" She swallows.
"Memories?" you coax her. She nods uncertainly. "Yeah, you've got those, and more." You squeeze her hand. "That's imago for you. It's not just the physical stuff. It's all the stuff she's ever done and all the habits she's picked up."
She looks down at her hands, and then stands up with a frown. "I'm just like her." She seems briefly overcome by dizziness, for she clutches the side of the table and steadies herself. "I-- I can act just like her. If I want." She looks at you, and her eyes narrow. "You had me-- her-- over to study so you could do this mask stuff," she says accusingly.
"Yeah!" you laugh.
Her nostrils flare. "You're not really an idiot!"
"No!" You laugh even harder. "I couldn't have lived as long as I have while being a moron."
She frowns, and swallows, and abruptly sits down again. She fumbles at her face. "How do I get it off?"
"Don't you like it?" She winces and doesn't answer. "Here, first of all, do you believe me now, all the stuff that I told you?" She takes a deep breath, and nods. "Good. I'll take that thing off you in a minute, but let's talk a little more first.
"We don't have a lot of time to get these keys made, and I don't think the three of us can get them done in time by ourselves. We need two more people. Do you know anyone who would be willing to help us out? Who would be willing to sit down and listen and let themselves be convinced, like you were?"
"Show them these masks and they'll be convinced," she says.
"Hmm. I was afraid of that."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, we told you the truth about why we want these things. They're keys. But no one is going to listen to that, are they? You barely did, and I had to yell at you to get you to do that much." If she feels embarrassed by her behavior, she doesn't show it. "Which means that we will have to use these masks, and we will have to tell people a story."
"What kind of 'story'?"
"About what the masks are for." You sigh. "We're going to have to draw people in by telling them we're making these masks to be disguises."
"Like how?"
Could she really be that dense? "Well, think about what you could do with that mask. Well, maybe not Darcy's. Are there any boys who are interested in her, or that she's interested in?"
She looks thoughtful for a moment. "Adam Karter's been-- Wait, I don't think I should say anything." She gives you a dark look.
"That's fine. I'm not interested. But if you had a mask of, oh, Alyssa Randal, or Jessica Pearce, or Jenny Taylor--or of Kyle or Ian Carpenter or, hell, Adam Karter ... Well, you could have some ... fun." Now her eyes really do narrow. "That's what we're going to have to promise people, if we bring them in. Fun.
"Now. Who are two people that you know and trust, who could be tempted with ... fun?"
She has no immediate answer, and you wind up sending her home with the promise that she'll bring you some names later. Frank shakes his head. "You didn't have to give her all that bullshit about alignments and Lemuria and keys."
"Maybe not. But I had a great time making it all up."
* * * * *
Still, you're a little nervous, until she finds you the next day, and gives you three names. You question her closely about her choices. You know Amy Rhodes slightly, and she seems like a good choice. You're less certain about Eileen Piper, but she is good friends with the third choice: Joshua Cheswick. A guy? Maybe, if he could be reliably paired with Eileen. But putting a "couple" together might create unforeseen complications; they might be less easy to control than Amy and Eileen, who appear to be relative strangers to each other.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author