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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "The Golden Child"  Twenty pairs of eyes stare with astonishment (and a little fright) as Eric throws Elijah Cabot over his shoulder. "Listen up!" Eric hollers. "This is a game of hide and seek! I'm taking this little pecker off to hide him somewhere, and you little peckers get to try finding him!" He carries Elijah out. You watch, boggle-eyed, as he goes out the side door. Probably he's taking your recruit-to-be up to his bedroom over the garage. "What the fudge?" gasps Cameron Hill. "That's how we play hide and seek around here," you improvise. "You don't pick your hiding place. You get hidden." You exchange a terrified glance with Riker. "Whoa!" Nervous grins start flashing around the room. "Where—?" "We once found Micah stuffed inside a laundry sack with a bunch of my brother's dirty socks," Riker says. "And the sack was in the garbage can." He nudges you. "Remember how we couldn't get the smell out of your t-shirt?" Shouts of excitement break out, and there's a small rush for the dining room. You and Riker jump in the way to block them. "You have to give him a chance to hide him!" you yell. "Uh— Alec'll tell you when it's time to start!" you add as your other brother—a smaller but hardly less powerful giant—passes through from the kitchen, loping toward the stairs. Naturally, you're pounded with questions about how the game is supposed to work. Are there boundaries? Is there a time limit? Are you supposed to hunt in teams or one by one? You and Riker put them off as best you can, and you're happy to leave your twin to field the questions as you follow Alec when he reappears with a grocery sack that clinks as he swings it by his side. Outside, he runs up the crooked, creaking wooden staircase to the spare room over the garage. You follow, brushing away the drizzling rain, and find Eric is standing guard over the prisoner, who is sitting on the bed. Of Elijah you can only glimpse a shoulder and arm, and one leg, from around your brothers' burly forms. Then the rest of the boy appears as he falls back onto the bed. His mouth sags, and his soft, brown eyes stare sightlessly at the ceiling. "Riker needs help downstairs," you tell Eric and Alec with a gulp. You find you can't take your eyes off Elijah. "This stupid hide-and-seek game you invented— No one knows the rules!" "Hey, I just getting the job done," Eric snorts. "Clean up is you twerps' job." "Well, go downstairs and help!" Alec punches Eric in the side. "Come on, he's saying he wants some alone-time with the new guy." "I do not!" But your brothers are already swaggering away, smirking at you and at each other. You glower after them, then scurry over to lock the door after them. Which leaves you alone with the unconscious Elijah Cabot. He came dressed for the weather in a green-and-white soccer team track suit. Your hands shake as you start to peel it off him, exposing his smooth, tanned limbs and a slim torso that is still a dusty pink from the summer. He is a year older than you, and quite a bit taller. But up close he seems even bigger, with strong legs that have already gained some firm muscle. You've got him stripped to his tidy whities when there's a gentle rap at the door. You peek out the dirty window. It's Riker, and you unlock the door long enough to open it and haul him inside. "What's going on downstairs?" you ask. "Eric and Alec are making up the game rules," he says. "And they're not making any sense!" "Of course they're not! Leave it to the Ishmaelites to—" But Riker has done a double-take at something behind you, and he pushes you aside to advance on the bed. "Oh, wow," he says as he stares down at the golden-limbed Elijah. "You think they can keep everyone distracted until—?" "Oh, wow! That's going to be you, Will!" "Yeah, I know. We have to keep—" "Do you think he has a girlfriend?" Riker slips his arm around your waist. "What? I don't know! Don't you know, Riker?" "You should start getting ready," he says. "Get undressed." His voice falls to a whisper. "Get on the bed with him." You feel your hackles going up. But Sydney's right. You don't have a lot of time, not with classmates getting ready to look for your self-to-be. So you strip yourself of your own clothes—warm, heavy sweatshirt and sweat pants; socks and dirty sneakers—and clamber onto the bed to lay next to Elijah. Your bare arm touches his as you look up anxiously at Riker. "This is going to be so cool, Will," he says in a soft voice as he leans over you. He pinches your temples as he closes his hand over your brow. You shut your eyes and hold your breath. Skin, bone, and everything else seems to tear off you in one swift motion, leaving you in a cold darkness on the other side. You sink into a welcome oblivion. * * * * * You are chilly when you waken, and a huge shiver runs through you. You raise your head and frown at the world. You're in a cold bed, wrapped in chilly sheets, in a strange room that smells like unwashed gym clothes. A gust of rain rattles against the grimy window pane just over your head. You sit up, peer under the covers, and confirm the dreadful fact that your clothes are gone. Panic washes over you. What the dang happened? But as you glance around with a wondering frown, another feeling—a clammy feeling of deja vu—begins to steal over you. The room looks like the inside of a box car—narrow, with bare wooden walls and a ceiling that's oppressively low. Besides the bed there's only room for a small desk with a laptop, a couple of small bookshelves stuffed carelessly with thick paperbacks, and a weight bench that's draped over with discarded jeans and shirts. As you turn to look for a door, two memories sweep over you. This is the room that Micah and Riker's brother carried me up into! I'm at their place, and this is that room over the garage! He put me down and winked at me and took out his phone and said it was a game. Then their other brother came in and— This Eric's room over the garage. I was just up here with Sydney, and I was laying down on the bed so we could change me out and put me in a mask of Elijah Cabot, and now— Your consciousness swims, briefly, as the two thoughts—and many others that are strangers to each other—merge into one. It leaves you cold and shivery on the other side, but also grimly confident in your sense of self. My name is Will Prescott, but now I'm Elijah Cabot. Aand no one can say I'm not. A faint smirk twists your lips. But it also feels a little uncertain. Then you lift the sheets to again peep at your own nakedness. Your legs are smooth and tan and strong. There's a tangle of dark hair at the fork and inside it— Holy crap! Your peter is enormous. Like, even flaccid it's longer and fatter than—you struggle for a comparison—Than the longest and fattest magic marker I've ever seen! you lamely conclude. It's so big that it's— Horrible, a voice says in the back of your skull. A hard flinch runs through you. And that flinch brings you back to the moment, and your sense of where you are. You scramble from the bed and glance around for your clothes. * * * * * You've got your shoes on and tied, and are just zipping up the soft green-and-white jacket, when you hear feet running up the outside stairs. A moment later the door bursts open. "Oh good, you're up and ready!" Riker exclaims. "Eric and Alec—!" Then he catches himself, and his eyes pop. He looks you up and down. "Oh wow," he says. "What?" "Oh wow!" "What?" He bites the small smile that curls onto his lips, and shuffles forward. He gives you a twinkly-eyed once over. "Oh wow," he says a third time. He puts his arms around you, and hugs you tight. In a flash, you shove him off. "Quit it!" you yell. "What?" He looks hurt. "I don't want you—!" You catch yourself with a gasp as Riker gapes back with a wounded expression. You wheel away and hang your head. "What's wrong?" Riker asks. "Will?" You suck in a quick breath. That's right. I'm Will. That's Sydney. And she expects me to— Another shudder ripples through you. "Nothing," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm sorry." "No, what's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong!" "You're not acting like nothing's wrong!" She's right. Something is wrong. "You were touching me," you murmur. It sounds so lame. "So?" You wince. She's right. So? You let out a ragged breath. "You're gonna have to bear with me a little, Sydney. Until I get used to it." "Used to what? Being touched?" He sounds incredulous. But he's right. Elijah doesn't like being touched. Not since his ... things ... came to sudden, violent life a few months ago, and he started waking in the middle of the night with the juiciest, most bed-shaking wet dreams. Next: "Flashback" |
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