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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Pulling a Switch on the Old Switcheroo"  Your hands are all atremble as you lunge for the mask and mind band that Vee left behind; almost they slip from your fingers. Get a grip, Abi! you hiss to yourself. This is your best chance to— Run! another voice interrupts. Get the fuck out while you can! No! the first voice countermands. Use the stuff to get back at these assholes! This one especially! Shut them down! You waver. Then you drop to your knees beside Todd, who is snoring like a buzzsaw from his gaping mouth. But he abruptly falls silent when you mash the mind band into his forehead. * * * * * "Hhwwaaaaaaarffff!" The puke firehoses up your esophagus and splatters into the corner of the storm drain. You rock back and forth on your hands and knees as your stomach heaves. Again you vomit, and a black stink envelops your head. The putrid remains of Todd Baldwin's last meal steam in the cold night air. "You're so disgusting." "Shut up, bitch," you snarl at Abi Steiner, who is kneeling on the floor behind you. "If you hadn't pounded back those cheeseburgers—" Your head swims, and you shake it to clear it. I'm Todd Baldwin, you remind yourself. I'm the one who pounded back three cheeseburgers and followed them up with half a bottle of vodka. Moron. You sit up with a groan, then lurch unsteadily onto your feet. You are still dizzy, but you feel a lot better. Now you're just buzzed again instead of blackout drunk. And Todd Baldwin knows how to handle a buzz. "Don't look at me like that," you growl at Abi as you snatch up Baldwin's loose-fitting slacks. Her eyes fall. "I know you're pissed at me, but we're both in the shit." Actually, the thought helplessly forms, we're in the storm drains beneath the school amphitheater. "The Catacombs." You belch at the golem—it's Todd under Abi's face—as you button and zip up the khakis. Nothing about the girl who hunches in front of you, frowning behind a tangle of hair, is the least bit arousing. And insofar as you can "remember" dropping through the manhole and popping a mask onto Will Prescott, then unbuttoning yourself so you could bang a copy of Abi Steiner, you can't even recall getting an erection. "Abi," you slur at her. "You have to do what I tell you. You want to do what I tell you." She looks up, and most of the fire drains from her expression. "You know who I am. I have to be Todd, but I was you. I know you want to—" —cut off my cock with a pen knife and make me eat it. "—hurt me. But I'm trying to help both of us. I'm gonna get you out of here and then I'm gonna follow you, and then we—" And then what? "And then we'll see," you lamely conclude. "Okay, boss," Abi says, and clambers onto her feet. There is still disdain in her voice, but at least she's calmed down. I sure am glad I went ahead and put that special stuff inside her mask when I had the chance, you think. Physically, you could handle a Todd Baldwin trapped inside Abi's body. But the special stuff makes the girl an ally. Albeit, an ally you have to send away. Xavier's is too small for two fake Abi Steiners. It could barely hold the real one. * * * * * It's 3:32 AM by your—that is, Todd's—cell phone when you and Abi emerge behind the Greek amphitheater. She needs fresh clothes, but it's too dangerous to send her back to her room, so you order her to make for the boat house, there to wait thirty minutes (as best she can gauge it) before raiding the laundry room for a fresh uniform. "I'll clear the coast then call a ride for you," you tell her as you sway on your feet. "It'll be a white truck. Go wait on the main road for it." You hope you'll be able to roust "Will Prescott" and convince him you're on the level with your instructions. After she's away, you spend a couple of minutes sucking down the cold night air, trying to sober up. Because now comes the hard part. Not that it'll be hard to impersonate Todd—it's like his personality is trying to grope you from the inside. But without breaking character you have to get rid of the guy who's watching the path Abi has to use to get away. It's dark and you're still badly buzzed, so it's a wobbling, weaving journey you make over uneven ground. Shouldn't be able to hear the music this close to the school, you think as you shamble toward the woods. Too close. Sound carries at night. "Halt, who goes there," a voice challenges from the dark. "Fuck!" You spin on your heel. "Fiore?" "No, Dogberry." A hand grabs the lapel of your jacket as you lurch sideways. "Everything okay with the prisoner?" "'The prisoner?' Fuck! You sound like Reeves!" You slap the hand away. "Got a cigarette?" "Those things are terrible for you." "Oh, fuck you! Now what are you, my fucking coxswain?" "Easy there." Again, Chris grasps your lapel. Instinct takes over, and you swing into the dark. Your knuckles brush against something soft, but you've thrown yourself off balance and fall to your hands and knees with a loud grunt. "God. Dammit!" "You're a bad drunk, bro." "Go fuck yourself! I'm gonna puke. Again." The jog across campus was bad for your guts and bad for your head. You belch as your stomach starts burning again. But this time it comes up more gently, in globs like thick lava that you burp out onto the grass. "Oh, Christ," you moan as you fall onto your side. "Hail Mary, full of—" "Come on, Baldwin, you can't pass out here." "Not gonna pass out. Just gonna sit here an'—" You squeeze the bridge of your nose. You feel like you did before, hot and burning and a little light-headed. "Keep you company." You burp. "Again." "Yeah, okay." Leaves crunch as Chris settles down beside you. "So how was the party?" "Oh, killer, brah. Sorry you had to miss it. Bu' thanks for keepin' look out." You put out a fist for a bump. "You're not heading back?" "Hff? Nah, 'm too wasted. No, I'm not wasted enough. I got wasted, came out th'other side. Christ. No fun goin' back." You settle onto your elbow and groan. "You should go. Get what you can out've it 'fore it winds down. I'll take watch." "You'll pass out." "'Whaz'it fucking matter? No one's comin' out'a check." Your head lolls. "Music's too loud. They's gonna check, they'd'a come out by now." Again, you belch. You expect Fiore to demur. But to your surprise, he scrambles onto his feet. "Thanks," he says. "I'll take you up on that." You grunt at him, and chew on a cheek as he shuffles off through the dead leaves. You wait ten minutes—struggling to stay awake—before calling your old cell phone. It rings a dozen times before a sleepy but irritable voice answers. * * * * * "Wake up! Wake! Up! You! Dumb! Shit!" You groan and roll your eyes open. Your cheek feels like gauze, so that the stinging slaps hardly register, but your head rings like a gong. The world reels and swims. But gradually it clarifies. You're very stiff and cold as you clamber up onto an elbow. "Macklin?" you mutter at the girl who is glaring into your face. "Time'zit?" You shake your head, then gasp at the sheet of pain that tears through your brain. "That guy is gone!" "Huh? Wha' guy? Wha're you—?" "Come on, we'll deal with it later," another voice cuts in. It's Fiore, bending over you. "We'll be late for morning dorm check if we don't hustle." You let them help you up, but insist on tottering back under your own power. You ask what Vee was yelling about, and she tries telling you, but Chris shuts her down. You can guess what it's about, though. Vee has found her prisoner flown. * * * * * One o'clock. Thank God Saturday morning classes are over. Your head is pounding, but lunch, aspirin, and coffee have you feeling more human. You probably look like hell, though. The others certainly do. There are four of you—Chris, Abi, Vee and yourself—perched in Vee's room. She shares it with Kristen, and Kristen would be with you if she wasn't (so the girls' story pretends) back in Saratoga Falls selflessly impersonating a gink named Will Prescott. "It's not just Prescott who's gone," Vee is saying. "Everything's gone!" "Even the book?" Chris asks. "Well, no," Vee admits. "Just all the stuff we made yesterday." "What stuff is that?" you demand. "And whose fucking bright idea was to keep it all in one place?" "We weren't keeping it in one place! I was down there working on it—" "The fuck why?" "Because—!" "Guys!" Chris raises a hand. "Um, aren't we overlooking the most important part of all this? Prescott didn't just run off with our shit. With the shit he took, he can make himself another disguise, like he did with Abi. Right?" He looks around. Vee hangs her head, but doesn't deny it. "Which means," Chris says slowly, "he could be hiding out anyplace. Anyplace at school. Anyplace in the city. He could even be—" His voice cracks, and he falls silent. Four pairs of eyes shift about the room. All, clearly, with the same thought. He could be one of us. You'll have to test each other for masks. You see it in Chris's expression. The fucker is going to suggest it. And you'll be exposed. But Todd Baldwin plays football, and he knows that the best defense is usually a good offense. Next: "The Pop Quiz" |
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